The Mutant Wars
by McQ
Summary: CHAPTER 14 INSTALLED AT LAST. AU In the near future, Magneto has succeeded and humans are nearly extinct. But peace is far from achievable. Now the mutants fight among themselves, power against power, class against class. Magneto, Wolverine, Pyro, OCs,etc
1. Chapter 1: Defection

**The Mutant Wars**

"_There is no land of tolerance. There is no peace. Not here, nor anywhere else."_

_-Magneto, 1999_

There is but one constant in this universe, and that is conflict. There is no agreement without discord, no group with out dissidents and no peace without terror.

And, so it is now. Magneto has won. The mutants are supreme and the humans naught but refugees, moving from place to place to avoid the genocide.

Almost as soon as victory was assured, the Mutant Wars began. The different species of mutants began to fight amongst themselves and in the end, a schism was formed.

The Elemental Mutants, the ones that control the elements—fire, water, air, weather, etcetera—and the Animalis Mutants, those who take on the powers of different animals—the clawed, the winged, the slithering—these two groups separated and each occupies land opposite the other. The Elementals think themselves superior to the Animalis, the Animalis think the same of the Elementals. They battle and war to prove superiority and to achieve victory for their kind. Each attempts to overtake the other and now they are at a stalemate.

Even among each of these groups there is division. Class rankings, between one and five, dominate each group. Since no class five mutants are allowed to live, only class four mutants take positions as leaders. Class one mutants are looked down upon, though not completely excluded from daily life.

And what of the others? The minority of mutants who are neither Elemental, nor Animalis? The psychics, the shape-shifters, the speed demons, the healers, the regenerators, the impossibly strong, the teleporters? What of them?

They are the mediators or the mercenaries, each of them hiring themselves out to the highest bidder, choosing whatever side suits them, or in some cases, staying out of the way altogether. They are the strongest, but the least in number, and can afford to fight or not to fight. The others, the Elementals, and the Animalis, have little choice.

The world has change since you and I were obliterated from its face. Money is no longer power. Power is power. Economy is meaningless, property even less. It would be Utopian, were it not for the wars.

It is sixty years since the creation of the Cure and its defeat. Sixty years, and you would not recognize the world.

Enter the Mutant Wars.

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**Chapter 1: Defection **

On a dark day, in a dimly lit room, the class four mutant Fellswoop, a flyer, was waiting for someone. He stood at the wide open window and sensed a storm, smelled rain on the wind. This window was, as always, open; during the hottest heat waves this side of the Pacific, throughout the coldest winters—it was never shut.

"Fellswoop, meet Velocity, class three speed demon." Satyr introduced the tousled-haired messenger and left the room.

Fellswoop examined the young man apathetically, his large yellow eyes flitting from here to there, purple centers focusing on one thing or another. He knew of Velocity, but had never met him in person. His full, iridescent violet wings widened and fell, and his clawed feet took two steps forward. "Velocity," he said, repeating the name. "Why have you come?"

Velocity smiled, bowing his head slightly to Fellswoop, who was entitled to such respect, as the class four mutant in charge of the Animalis mutant advance. "Fellswoop, I'm here on behalf of Godspeed, class four, weather-worker, commander in charge of—"

"I'm well aware of Godspeed's position. Go on."

Velocity nodded generously. "She has requested a meeting with you."

Fellswoop's cold blood went colder. A meeting? A meeting could lead to a treaty, or refreshed anger and more war. Either way, there would be dire consequences, on both sides. "To what end?" he asked.

Velocity shrugged. "Peace."

"Peace?" Fellswoop crossed his thin, lithe arms. "Peace?" he repeated. The word was foreign, almost ugly, and most definitely strange. "We have been at war for five decades."

"She is aware of this."

"What means can she provide? What can she possibly have to say that will stop the fighting?"

Velocity went on, ignoring Fellswoop's questions. "Godspeed has requested that this meeting, should it take place, will be held in Animalis territory."

This took Fellswoop by surprise. "She would come here?"

Velocity nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Why?"

The speed demon spread his hands and look at Fellswoop with incredulity, "Why, commander, Godspeed is defecting."

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"It's a trick!" Centaur exclaimed. He, Fellswoop and the other class fours, sat around the table, discussing Godspeed's offer. Velocity stood at one end of the table, having related the proposal.

Fellswoop was familiar with Velocity. He often served as a messenger, or information retriever for the Animalis. He was relatively young, though not a boy, and a class three speed demon. He was more trustworthy than not and his information was reliable, on the whole.

The idea of "peace in our time" was met with the skepticism Fellswoop had expected. He, too, was among the cynics and pessimists. He was not a believer in peace. But, when something you don't believe in comes knocking at your door, how can you not let it in?

Still, Godspeed's plan of defection as a means of achieving peace was tentative, at best. How could her betrayal of her species rally them to her cause? Would it not, rather, anger them, and infuse their immediate retaliation? Still Godspeed was the most powerful Elemental, even among the other class fours; her defection would be detrimental.

Satyr raised his arms in disbelief. "Fellswoop, are you seriously considering this?"

His wings fluttered. "I am," he answered. "What have we to lose? We have been at a stalemate with the Elementals for nearly two years. Can it hurt to merely consider peace?"

"Peace is a fool's dream," Centaur spat, his deep voice resonating through the table. "And you are a fool to dream it."

"A mutant may only dream when he is sleeping, and his eyes are closed," said Creature. "Fellswoop is awake, and his eyes are open." Creature always spoke cryptically, but his meaning was clear. "You, Centaur, and you Satyr, have always been blinded by the blood in your eyes."

"I will blind you with your own blood," Centaur growled, "if you don't close your mouth!"

"Stop it," Fellswoop commanded. "Stop this. We cannot argue this. We believe what we believe. But I will meet with Godspeed. Satyr and Centaur, you disagree. Ready an army to fight, if you're right and this is indeed a trap." He turned to Creature. He was the youngest at the Table, and possibly the strangest looking. Born of two Animalis mutants, a winged one, and a slithering one, both killed in battle during his early years, he had wings on his back, and thick feathers covering half of his body. He was both spindly, like a bird, and flexible, like a snake. His skin was green and his feathers were black. One eye was blue, the other white, one pupil round black, the other slit yellow. His nose was flat to his face, like a snake's nostrils and his teeth were all fangs, but his mouth protruded slightly, reminiscent of a bird's beak. "Creature, you're with me."

Creature inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. Centaur and Satyr did the same and left the Table.

"Will we witness the death of fifty years, now, Fellswoop?" Creature asked quietly.

"I don't know," he answered.

"Because if we do, then my parents never lived, and I am not here."

Fellswoop took Creature's arm and looked into his strange eyes. "Peace will not negate the sacrifice of your parents, Creature," he said insistently, "nothing will take the honor of their deaths away from them. Nothing!"

Velocity sat nonchalantly on the corner of the Table. "There's no honor in death, and you both know it. The wars are ending because there's nothing left to fight about."

Fellswoop looked up at the arrogant speed demon. "You have never known what it is like to fight for something worthwhile, something real. Don't speak of death as if you know it."

"Well, I know one thing," said Velocity, crossing his legs, "you're going to be late for your meeting. Godspeed will be at the city gates in a few minutes."

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Fellswoop walked towards Godspeed, who was floating just above the ground, contemplating the sky. She felt a storm's approach and she loved that feeling. Fellswoop's skin was so black in this diminished light that it was almost blue. His deep purple wine-colored wings expanded as he stepped forward, ready for a fight. Another mutant, tall and strange looking, lingered behind Fellswoop. He too had wings, but he kept them tucked away against his back. She did not know him.

"Why do you walk, Fellswoop, when you can fly?" she asked coolly.

He stepped a few feet closer to her, but not too close. He watched her with those inscrutable yellow eyes, so like a grackle's in their fierceness. They met in the street, near the central headquarters of the Animalis. The street itself was in disrepair and the buildings around it likewise. There were shops here once and human activity—no more. It was a gray day, as the storm drew nearer, and the earth turned that hazy yellow-green. Thunder in the distance.

"We should go inside," Fellswoop said. She turned to him, her short black hair spiking in the wind.

"Why? Are you afraid of the rain?" she mocked.

He took a deep breath, but did not take her bait. "Please, inside," he gestured

She touched down onto the ground. "Very well."

When they had reached the Table and sat down, Fellswoop sent for drinks and food. Two class one's entered and left, bringing victuals and something else…

Godspeed smelled the liquid and tasted it. "Wine?" she exclaimed.

"Wine," Fellswoop nodded. "We still make it. We make quite a few things on this side of the continent."

She sipped it and licked her lips. "I suppose that's the advantage of living in what was once California." She put down her glass, feeling the stinging warmth of the liquid penetrate her. "We in New York are not so lucky."

Fellswoop considered this and nodded, taking a deep drink of the wine. They picked at their food, for a bit, in silence. He was the first to speak. "Godspeed, are you going to tell me why you're here?"

Now the time had come, at last. She swallowed, and for the hell of it, she drank deeply from her glass and then began. "Fellswoop, as you well know, the Elementals and the Animalis have been at war for nearly fifty years."

"Yes, I recall that," he interrupted sarcastically, though not unkindly. His face lifted in a bitter smile. It was meant as a joke, not an insult. Interesting mutant.

She continued. "Fifty years is too long a time, too long a reality, for you or me to do anything about it, except continue the fighting. We were born into it. We have lived it." She paused, gathering her thoughts, and taking another sip of wine. "But…I am tired of fighting. You are aware, of course, that my daughter and my sister, both have been killed in battles with the Animalis."

Fellswoop nodded. "I am aware. You have my condolences."

This took her off her guard. "Your…condolences? Are you serious?"

"I've lost a sister as well. I have no children of my own, but I understand loss. You are a mutant, as I am, and we feel no differently, do we?"

Her suspicions rose and fell. "I don't know," was her answer. "My point is," she endeavored to gain back control of the conversation, "that you and I have no power to influence peace. We only have the power to war. We're fighters and nothing can change that."

"I agree with you, but I don't understand," Fellswoop said, "if, as you say, we can't create peace, why have you come to discuss it?"

Godspeed took a deep breath. "Because I have discovered a means of attaining potential peace, one that will require our skills and our powers to retrieve."

He leaned forward. "You're speaking in riddles. Say exactly what it is you mean."

Now it had come, the moment, the point, the risk. "I have discovered something, a vault, deep beneath what used to be the subway system. I've spent two years investigating it, hiring mercenaries, speed demons and mind readers, trying to discern what was inside of it. And what I've discovered is unbelievable." Fellswoop waited and she took another, hasty gulp of wine. Then, she just came right out and said it. "Apparently, the vault contains the body of Magneto, frozen, in stasis."

Fellswoop's wings rose and extended their full width, pressing up against the walls of the room. He pushed himself away from the Table and glared at her in disbelief. "Are you mad? Magneto was killed in battle almost sixty years ago. He never even lived to see the humans exterminated."

"We have been told that same story, but I don't believe it anymore. The group that guards the vault is called the Brotherhood and there is compelling evidence that suggests Magneto was taken by this group and frozen in stasis, not killed in battle. The mind readers I hired and one of my own men captured one of them and interrogated him. He told us that Magneto is alive, and in the chamber, waiting to be revived."

Fellswoop continued to look on her as if she had suggested that humans should be admitted into the Animalis. She did not blame him in the least. She could barely believe in her own words, but she knew they were true. Godspeed leaned back and shrugged. "I know this is unbelievable," she acquiesced, "but would I be here, alone, if it were not true?"

The tall mutant Godspeed did not know spoke now. He had been silent until now and she had believed him deaf or mute or both. He had been listening however, and now he had something to say. His peculiar eyes peered closely at her, focusing for the first time since they had begun this conversation. "Only the father of us all can save us now," he said, "his daughter has brought him to us, he can that move our steel hearts and open our cages."

Fellswoop looked at the other mutant. "Creature, do you believe her?"

"Godspeed controls the air and the weather cannot lie, though it may destroy, as well as create," Creature answered.

Godspeed watched this mutant anxiously. "Who are you?" she asked him. And who was he to dictate to Fellswoop, to be present at this meeting? She wanted to know.

He turned to her, the hawkish blue eye and the snake-like white one boring into her. "I am two halves of two wholes," he answered. "Creature is my name, for that is what I am."

This mutant was unnerving. She did not like him or his cryptic speech. However, it seemed his words convinced the commander of the Animalis, who nodded slowly, and spoke, "Godspeed, I believe your words. What do you intend to do now?"

She broke free of Creature's gaze and looked towards Fellswoop. "We must retrieve the body of Magneto and revive him."

"Is that…possible?"

She nodded. "I believe so. I have enlisted the services of a healer, who, theoretically, should be able to revive his body."

"And if he can't?"

"Then I will disappear and you will never see me again and the war will go on and on and on," she stated simply, folding her hands together.

Fellswoop frowned. "Why did you not simply send an army down there to retrieve it yourself? Clearly, this Brotherhood is in Elemental territory."

"Believe me, I would have, but it seems that more than one of my own commanders is a member of this Brotherhood. If I revealed to him that I know of Magneto's existence, I'm sure he would kill me. I am powerful, but against an army of my own people, I don't know if I would survive."

"Why do they keep him down there? What purpose can he serve, in stasis? It doesn't make sense."

Godspeed shrugged. "I have no idea. But the vault is heavily guarded and the Brotherhood's reach extends deep within Elemental class four commanders. I don't know who to trust."

Fellswoop raised a feather-like eyebrow. "So, you've put your trust in me?"

"An enemy can always be trusted, a friend cannot," Creature interjected somberly.

Fellswoop locked his fingers together. His face darkened. "If Magneto is brought back to life, wouldn't he be considered an Elemental?"

Godspeed's eyes narrowed. "He controlled metal, an element, so, yes, he would."

"Does it not stand to reason, then, that, should he come back, he would join your side, the Elementals?"

Godspeed followed this train of thought and saw where it was leading. "Fellswoop, Magneto was around before the Division; he has no notion of our being separated into Elementals, and non-Elementals."

Fellswoop's feathers bristled. "_Non_-_Elementals_?" he repeated in disgust and she saw at once her mistake.

She shook her head. "Forgive me. _Animalis_." Fellswoop nodded, but his anger had been tapped and would not easily be squelched.

"My point is," he continued, "the situation will have to be explained to him, and he will have to choose one side, or no side. And if he chooses a side, it will surely be your side. It would tip the balance we have right now, end the stalemate."

"Magneto would raise the morale of the Elementals and the Animalis wouldn't stand a chance, if what we have learned about him is true," Godspeed finished for him. "And, both of us would die," she added pointedly. "I'm here and I'm not going back. If there is an attack, and a victory, I'll have no share in it." She sighed. "Fellswoop, I don't think Magneto will choose a side. I think he will, somehow, unite us, end the wars."

Fellswoop laughed, just then, unexpectedly. She looked questioningly at him. He smiled. "It's just…the thought of him coming back—of all of this being real—and you and I just talking about him as if he were here all along…it's overwhelming." Then his face changed, and the deep blackness became even more shadowed. "I believe you…but, I want to trust you," he implored.

Godspeed ran her fingers through her spiky black hair. "Look, I've taken a huge risk in leaving Elemental territory. They'll be lost without me. Now is the time to strike…I have a battle plan that will distract the commanders and allow us to get inside the vault and take the body. A battle, a great battle—it will have to be real and quick. Can you do it?"

"I'll have to discuss this with the other class fours."

"No," said Godspeed suddenly. "You can't. The true purpose of this battle must be kept secret. You don't know if your own commanders aren't members of this Brotherhood. Rally your troops, say that you've captured me, and without me, the Elementals are at great risk."

"You would risk the lives of your own people to accomplish this?"

She looked into his eyes. "Only if you're willing to do the same."

Fellswoop stood and ran his hands down his face. Creature stood as well and the two of them began to leave to room. "Stay here," said Fellswoop, "no one will harm you. You are the more powerful among us anyway."

Godspeed nodded. "Don't tell anyone, or we're both dead," she warned.

"I'm not going to…I just…need to think. Give me ten minutes, at least," he answered soberly. His wings tensed and his clawed feet ticked along the ground as he walked out. Creature's black wings slipped through the door last. He turned and faced her.

"The storm will come," he said, "and you will not be able to control it."

Godspeed did not answer, but watched him go. When they were gone, she grabbed the bottle of wine and drank it until it was empty.

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It was a monument of greater days, of failure, but also of the beginnings of victory. He flew towards it, the water pulsing and crashing under him. Creature was close behind him. The rain had begun falling, ever so slightly, and it bounced off the water with careless ease.

The Golden Gate Bridge, derelict and almost ancient-looking loomed over him. It was still attached to Alcatraz Island, having never been fixed in sixty years. The Battle of the Cure had begun on this bridge…and more than that. It was an emblem to all that had come after it, and all that would come in time. He crouched on top of it, gripping one of the steel cables with his clawed feet. Creature did the same, and watched him, waited for him to speak.

"I don't know what to do," Fellswoop confessed to him. "Is it a trap? She could be a pawn herself and not even know it." He wracked his brains and pulled at his hair. "I just don't know."

Creature swayed with the cable as the wind picked up and the rain drove harder. "Fellswoop, don't close your eyes," he said, leaning in closer to him, "let the rain in."

Fellswoop knew this was meant figuratively, at least, he assumed it was, but at that moment, it seemed a wonderful suggestion, and he did just that. He opened his arms wide and let the rain splash into his face, into his eyes. He felt freer here, on top of this bridge, where he had always come to think. Before a battle, he would come here and try in vain to remember what it was he was fighting for. "A lot of mutants will die," he said over the storm.

"They are already dead," said Creature, "if you cannot wash the blood from your hands and heart."

He turned towards his companion, who was not looking at him and did not look at him now. And he knew he was right. If Fellswoop did not try, his people would die anyway, eventually, in the battles that would surely take place in the future. Creature's black feathers glistened with water droplets and it made him strangely beautiful, like a spider's web after a storm. "Will Magneto bring peace?"

Creature's head turned slowly and there were tears in his eyes, mixed with the rain. Fellswoop could discern the two, for Creature's tears were bright azure blue. "No, Fellswoop," he said mournfully, "he will calm the waters, but the ocean is deep."

He turned away and his sky-blue tears danced inside the raindrops as they fell down, far into the deep dark waters below.


	2. Chapter 2: The Box

**Chapter 2: The Box**

_"In chess, the pawns go first."_ _Magneto, 2006_

Fire and ice rained down upon the first group of invaders. They were easy to dispel—a group of ill-prepared class twos, used as a diversion. They moved like the animals they were. Spit watched them and took them out, one, two, three, until he lost count. The flames flew from his fingers and caught their disgusting, hairy, slimy bodies and he watched as they writhed in pain.

He ran down the stairs into the subway tunnel that was serving as a kind of fort. Though the first group had been easily eliminated, it had been huge—unlike anything Spit had ever seen.

He approached Himmel, commander in charge of ground troops, a class three with the power over the sky and the air. He could not control the weather, but he could make it seem light or dark, and make the wind blow like a hurricane, or as a light as a breeze.

"Sir," Spit saluted him, straight-backed and narrow-eyed, "the first line of offenders has been defeated."

"But?"

Himmel had an uncanny way of reading people's minds that had nothing to do with his mutant abilities.

"Permission to speak freely sir?"

Himmel nodded.

Spit relaxed slightly. "I believe this first wave of invaders was only a diversion. There were more of them than usual—and I believe that there are a great many more on their way—more powerful."

"And?"

Spit bit his lip. "And…I have very little confidence in Commander Sky…sir."

Himmel raised a blue-black eyebrow. "Oh?"

This was an invitation for Spit to continue his grievances, and he did so. "Sir…Commander Sky seems reluctant…to fight, sir. She…was delayed in her response time to the attackers—and it took us some time to find her—we lost more people…than we should have…_I_ think, sir. I mean no disrespect."

"Where?" said Himmel.

"Sir?"

"Where was she? Commander Sky."

Spit frowned. "She was in the tunnels, sir. Deep down."

"Commander Himmel?" The mutant Tymah, a class three weather worker, approached Himmel. "Fathom has detected several thousand Non-Elementals approaching the city. She does not detect Commander Godspeed with them."

Himmel nodded once. "Send out all class four weather workers beyond the city. Have them shield us for as long as they can. They are permitted to use any means necessary when confronted by the enemy."

"Sir." Tymah turned and flew further into the tunnels. Her red-gold hair flashed in the dim light before she disappeared.

Himmel turned to Spit. "Get your team ready. Have flame throwers stationed at all points. Alert all commands that it is my intention to take at least one of the class fours alive. They may know Godspeed's location within the Non-Elementals."

"What about Commander Sky, sir?" Spit asked tentatively.

Himmsel bristled. "You have your orders!"

Spit straightened. "Yes sir."

* * *

Creature moved soundlessly down in the deep black tunnels, beyond the throes of battle. His eyes grew accustomed to the pitch black quickly, and he saw as clearly as if it had been day.

His wings did not rustle, nor did his clawed feet tap. He moved a easily as air.

Around one corner, and down another set of slanted track, he saw at last what he was looking for. A single door, guarded, just as Godspeed had predicted. He stood in the shadows, undetected and waited.

A beautiful mutant, with red-gold hair, approached him and barely whispered. "Is that you?"

"Only if you are expecting me."

Tymah stepped closer. "The mutant called Creature. Godspeed communicated your name to me."

"Godspeed trusts in your trust—can I do the same?"

Tymah nodded nervously. "Yes."

"How many are there, that hide our father?"

Tymah frowned. "Four guards. I know some of them. Commander Sky is fighting above us. Some of the others are as well. There are never less than four."

"Two for Creature, two for Tymah."

"I don't know how to open the door."

"It will open when we open it," Creature answered.

* * *

Fathom, a sensor, class two, rushed down into the tunnels. She had been acquired by the Elementals some years ago. She served as living radar, able to detect the approach of any mutant within a forty mile radius—she could detect both class and species. "Himmel!" she called. "Himmel?!"

The Commander appeared in front of her. "What?"

"Godspeed is here," Fathom answered, smartly, but breathless.

Himmel eyes jumped. "Where?"

Fathom pointed upwards. "Up there! She's fighting!"

Himmel crossed his arms contently. "Victory," he said.

"You don't get it," Fathom replied, "she's not fighting on your side. She's beating you back."

"Impossible."

Fathom turned and he followed. "Come and see," she called.

* * *

Tymah was injured, but not seriously. Creature was unscathed and unshaken. They had dispelled of the guards. The door, metal, thick and without a noticeable keyhole, loomed in front of them.

"This mutant," Tymah said to him, pointing to one of the dead. "He's not an Elemental. He's a communicator called Code. He can send messages with his mind to anyone—I thought he was dead." She looked up suddenly. "He may have alerted others."

Creature pressed his palms against the wide metal wall. "It must be opened."

"Maybe it's not supposed to," Tymah considered. "Maybe he's walled in there and they don't want him to be revived. Why would you build a door without a way to open it?"

"Why would you hide a treasure if you never intended to look at it again?" was his reply. "If it was not meant to be opened, it would not be closed."

Tymah stepped to his side.

Creature tilted his head in an odd, animal manner. Instinctually, she was frightened and somewhat disgusted by his manner. He was so strange and inmutant-looking—he looked like a combination of a bird and snake. It was so odd and unnerving. Tymah had been taught from birth that Animalis were nothing compared to Elementals. They were secondary, and, like humans, not worthy to share the earth. Standing next to this Animalis, she did not see weakness—she saw incredible strength. But, despite her attempts at "looking past it", as Godspeed had instructed her, all she could see was an animal.

"Your heart is in your eyes," said the mutant.

She had been staring and blushed, looking away. His head tilted in the other direction. "Ah," he said, as if he had heard something, "the message was sent." Tymah heard it then: footfalls above. They were coming.

"We're too late!" she cried.

A flash of smoke and the smell of sulfur filled Tymah's reality. She coughed, and waved the smoke away. A man stood in front of her and she gasped.

"Do not hurt him," said Creature. "He is the key."

The footsteps grew louder and now Tymah heard voices.

"I guess I came just in time," said the man, smiling slightly.

Tymah swallowed, the sulfur lingering in the back of her throat. "Are you a teleporter?" she asked.

"I'm not late, am I?" was his reply. Without waiting for an answer, he had grabbed hold of Tymah's arm, and she felt a sudden weightless, nauseating sensation, and then the ground slammed unkindly under her feet. She fell.

The teleporter helped her up, introducing himself as Daytripper, "Or Trip or Day or Tripper, for short, whatever you want."

When Tymah had gotten to her feet, she looked around her, and could care less about the teleporter's nicknames. She was in a huge, cavernous room, lit faintly by bluish glowing lamps on the walls. At the center of the room, there was a long box, with all sorts of tubes and plugs and wires going in and out of it. Creature was already next to the box. He was on one knee, and his hand reached tentatively towards it, but he would not touch it. She approached him.

"Is that…Magneto?" she said the name in a whisper.

Daytripper was by her side, hands shoved deeply into jean pockets. "Magneto!" he asked. He laughed. And then stopped laughing. "Magneto?" He looked closely. "You mean…his…body…is in there? _The_ Magneto?"

Tymah nodded and the three of them, the Animalis, the Elemental and the Teleporter, stared at the box in utter silence. One in reverence, the other in disbelief, and the last in complete confusion.

"Wait a minute…" Daytripper spoke, "this is what I have to teleport beyond the border? Are you serious?"

Tymah turned. "Can't you do it?"

Daytripper grimaced and twisted his fingers together. "Well…it's pretty big…and with both of you in tow…I don't know…that'll take a lot of me."

"Take the box first, then, and Creature and me last, if you don't think you can do it all at once." The footsteps grew louder as Tymah was speaking. She could hear voices outside of the metal wall. "Go! Now!"

Daytripper touched the box and disappeared with it. A look of pain was the last she saw in his face before he vanished. Creature's hand was still extended, even as the box became nothing but a puff of smoke and sulfur. Tymah began to pace nervously, tapping her long fingers against her arms.

"What's taking so long?" she muttered.

"Do you fear the end?" Creature whispered.

"If you mean am I afraid of death, yes…I am!"

He raised his eyes from where the box had been to her. "No. I did not mean that. Are you afraid of the end of war?"

It was the least cryptic thing Creature had probably ever said, and yet, in its simplicity, it was a most difficult concept. Of course Tymah longed for peace. She wanted to have a family some day, and not have to worry about her children and her children's children dying for nothing. Godspeed had already lost most of her family—Tymah had no desire to share in such an experience.

And yet, no war—what did that mean? What was there to do, if not fight? What was there to believe in, if not a cause that demanded, even required, blood? What purpose would she serve? Would she have one?

So, in the end, she answered the Non-Elemental with a simple, quiet, "Yes."

And the metal wall was pushed back with such a force, that it knocked her off of her feet. It was not an explosion—a metal worker pushed it back and knocked her down. She knew nothing but darkness then, and had no idea whether Creature had survived at all.


	3. Chapter 3: Born Again

**Chapter 3: Born Again**

_"Ah, your continuing search for hope…"_

_Magneto, 1999_

The power, the light, the pain…

Suddenly it was cold.

And then hot.

And then—

He reached out and grabbed something soft…and hard. And arm. His eyes were open, but he was blinded by light. Somehow, he knew without knowing that he had been long asleep. And now, as if being born again, he emerged from dark darkness into bright darkness.

He did not cry aloud, his mouth opened, but no sound came. A dozen fingers pressed against his shoulders and his chest. In that moment, he could feel the size, length and strength of each and every one—could even tell which were female and which were male.

Light!

Blinding, blurry, blacking light!

He extended his hand to shield himself from it. It was unbearable.

Voices!

Small voices…but incredibly loud, filling his entire perception.

He was aware, then, of being in a liquid substance—thick jelly that covered his whole naked body. He was naked…that, too, he could feel. Strange tubes, like extensions of his nostrils, stretched out of his nose. Air came into him through another long, pipe-like tube that was reaching into his lungs.

A shadow filled the light and was gone again. He became aware of two hands on his chest. They rested there calm, but heavy. At the touch of those hands, a wave of energy and life swept through him. It was so overwhelming, that he was soon drifting back into the unintelligible sleep from which he had sprung so violently.

* * *

Daytripper paced fretfully. Tymah joined him, glad to see someone who was, if not familiar by knowledge, familiar by appearance. She was alone, but for him—an Elemental among several dozen Animalis and one Healer. The Healer was odd looking as well—she had long, purple hair and a bluish-green tint to her skin. Her eyes were frightfully wide and a bright white, with blue centers. Tymah could not even begin to imagine what mutant gene pool could have possibly formed her.

Daytripper was at least normal looking. He stopped pacing as she approached, but rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"What are you still doing here?" she asked.

He grinned. "You're kidding, right?"

Tymah smiled back. They were quiet for a moment, watching the commotion around them. Magneto—or at least, the old man that was supposed to be Magneto (Tymah had imagined him younger)—lay stretched out on a bed. She was not sure where in the former United States they were, but it was far enough from Elemental Territory to avoid the reach of most sensors. On top of that, she had been told they possessed a Sensor Shield.

Magneto had awoken with surprising strength. The Healer insisted that she still had work to do, despite the energy and well-being clearly evident in the man's initial behavior. Tymah was anxious, like the rest of them—but Daytripper looked like a father awaiting news of the birth of his first child.

"That was pretty close back there," she commented.

He blinked. "Huh? Oh. Yeah, sorry about that."

"It's ok," Tymah answered. "Is…um…Creature, okay?" she asked awkwardly.

"Oh, yeah. He's alright. Guy's like a rock." He never took his eyes off of Magneto all the while he spoke to her. He stared rapturously. "You know…nobody told me what I'd be teleporting," he said quietly. "Most people think the Outsiders are just mercenaries without brains, but…if someone had told me about this—I would have done it for free. Just being here…"

Tymah clasped her hands behind her back. "Well…we're not even sure if this is Magneto, just so you know."

His gaze never wavered. "I'm sure," was all he said.

"He's here!" someone announced.

From down a flight of stone steps, Daytripper could here the _click-click_ of a mutant with claws on his feet. This must have been Fellswoop, the leader of the Animalis. He was certainly a sight to behold.

His skin was the deepest black Daytripper had ever seen, and his wings were a deep burgundy, like wine. His eyes were yellow like light with drilled purple centers, the same color as his wings. He was so much taller than everyone else, he had to duck into the doorway; it gave him a more authoritative advantage, Daytripper thought, being so tall—he could look down on everybody.

Daytripper slunk into the shadows and watched as Fellswoop entered and observed the reaction he encountered. All of the Animalis present bowed, and the Healer gave a respectful nod. Tymah was approached by Fellswoop and even she bowed. He spoke to her. She looked away from his strange eyes. Daytripper wondered what he could have said so confidentially to her.

"And who are you?"

What a fool to think that he could hide from a mutant who could probably see in the dark! Daytripper took a step forward. "Daytripper," he announced himself, "teleporter. Class three. From the former Canada. I was hired to transport—"

"I know what you were here to do. Why do you stay?" Fellswoop's eyes bored into Daytripper relentlessly.

"I…" he swallowed, "I want to see Magneto."

If he thought Fellswoop would be angered by this response, he could not have been more wrong. The Animalis pressed his clawed hand against Daytripper's shoulder and smiled a strange, joyful smile. "Then you are welcome," he said. "Most welcome."

Daytripper was overcome by this invitation. He bowed to Fellswoop and said, "And, sir, if I can be of any further use to you, I will remain indefinitely."

"Yes," Fellswoop said, "yes. Stay as long as you can."

With that, Fellswoop left Daytripper and approached the bedside of Magneto. "Is he…healthy?" he asked the Healer.

She nodded. "Most healthy, sir. His age is sixty-five. Despite this, he is strong, and most powerful. Shall I wake him, sir?"

Fellswoop stared. "Is that…safe? Should we let him rest?"

"He has been resting for sixty years, sir," said the Healer, without a mark of humor, "it is time for him to wake."

She waited for no further orders, but stood close to Magneto and pressed her hands against his bare chest. Daytripper fancied he saw a glow come from her hands and illuminate the skin and hair on Magneto's chest. It may have been only fancy, but he thought he saw it.

The man twitched and was suddenly awake. He sat upright, gasping and taking in a great deal of air. He reached up and touched his face looking, or so Daytripper imagined, for the tubes and wires that had been attached to him, but were no more. When he had finished the apparent search, he stopped and looked around him in a bleary, confused kind of way.

"What—" his voice was hoarse and tinny from lack of use. He touched his throat and cleared it. "What—happened? Who are you?"

Fellswoop looked like he may have fainted, but he spoke to Magneto as if it were the least extraordinary thing to do. "I am Fellswoop. Commander in charge of the Animalis Mutants. And you…are Magneto…" This he said more to himself than to anyone else. And, upon saying it, he bowed, his wings shuffling as he did so.

"I know who _I_ am." the man declared. "I still don't know who the devil you are or why you've taken me here…where are we? What is this place?"

"This is a safe bunker, far from Elemental territory. We are not likely to be discovered here." Fellswoop stayed in a low bow, directing his answers to the floor.

"I'm…not a prisoner?" the man asked skeptically. "You've taken me here…to keep me safe?"

"We have, Magneto, and at great cost. There is a great battle going on even as we speak. It is the greatest offensive we have taken in more than two years. Even so, it is only a diversion…that we may acquire you and we have done so." His voice was strong, but there was a timidity in it that Daytripper was certain only Magneto could have ever put there.

"An offensive?" he repeated. "A battle? I was in a battle—that is the last thing I remember…"

Fellswoop, at last, looked up at Magneto. "Sir…that battle was over fifty years ago. It was won. It was believed you perished in it."

Magneto's gray eyes widened. The shadows underneath them grew darker. "Fifty…fifty _years_? How is that possible?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Fellswoop shook his head. "We don't know," he said, "there were many witnesses who claim to have seen you fall in battle. Your supposed death led to a great victory against the humans, and ultimately, the greatest victory of all. They are all but extinct."

"Extinct?" he said the word with neither relish nor disgust, simply amazement. "Then what battle is it…that you are fighting now? The remaining humans?"

Fellswoop looked away. "No, there are not enough humans left to fight."

"Then who?" Magneto demanded. "Who?"

"I will explain all to you in time," Fellswoop insisted nervously. "But first, you must eat and we must find you clothes."

"You will explain it to me now!"

Fellswoop flinched. "The battle we fight now…there is a great war now, between…" he faltered. Daytripper watched him try to think. His clawed fists clenched and unclenched. "It has been going on for decades…"

Magneto eyed Fellswoop, as the other mutant stood dumb. It was sudden, but Magneto seemed to deduce from Fellswoop's reluctance what the matter was. "This war…it is between mutants?" Fellswoop did not deny it. He only looked pityingly at Magneto as that man looked in astonishment at him. If Daytripper could have seen through Magneto, he was sure would have witnessed the man's soul disintegrate—his dreams, his hopes, simply fall away into a black nothing.

He watched now as Tymah took a shy step forward. "I am Tymah. A weather worker. Class three." She took a shallow breath. "I am an Elemental. Fellswoop, and the others here, besides the Healer," she designated the purple-haired mutant, "are Animalis. We have been at war with each other ever since the human threat was eliminated."

Magneto was motionless. His mouth opened and closed several times, as if he were about to speak, but decided it against it. Finally, without raising his voice, he said, "You have separated yourselves based on abilities…and appearance." It was like a statement of fact and a question all in one. Something about the way he said it made Daytripper's heart break. "And…why am I here?" he whispered. "I should not have lived this long…"

It was then that the mutant called Creature, who had been kneeling all the while, at last rose from his position on the floor, and spoke. "You have lived past your life…so that our lives may be saved. You are the father of us all."

Fellswoop stepped forward. "Forgive us, Magneto. We have shamed you. It is, however, a kind of miracle that you, an Elemental, are considered by both species, Animalis and Elemental, to be the father of mutants. Forgive your children. We have brought you back to save us. Please, let us care for you. And let us explain all to you in more detail."

Daytripper watched with bated breath as Magneto's gaze went from mutant to mutant throughout the room. His eyes finally rested on Creature. "What are you called?"

"Creature, father," he answered.

"And you?" he asked the Healer.

"I am of no consequence, father," the Healer replied.

Magneto shook his head. "On the contrary, my dear." She smiled at the endearment, but said no more.

He turned from her and saw Daytripper, hiding in the shadows. "And who are you?"

"I'm Daytripper, teleporter, class—" He stopped himself from speaking. As he listened to himself, to his mutant designation, none of it seemed to matter at all. Only his name—that was what Magneto wanted. His name. "Daytripper," he repeated, and added quietly, "father."

Magneto wrapped the sheet around his body and he rose from the bed. Fellswoop stood close to him. "Tell me…" he whispered darkly, "what has happened to the world."

* * *

He jammed the needle into her arm and she shook and writhed and fell. Godspeed looked up at Himmel from the floor. "How dare you!" she cried. "How dare you?"

Himmel looked down at her. "I?" he repeated. "Dare?" He pointed to her. "Traitor!"

They had very few of these left, these Cure vials. Not enough to use in battle, against the Animalis, but enough for something like this—punishment. This time, as punishment for desertion and defection. It worked quickly and in mere moments, Himmel had made Godspeed human. It gave him no pleasure, but how else could he have possibly controlled her? It was enough that six Elementals had died trying to capture her. Godspeed shivered. "Himmel, if you could only understand…" she trailed off.

Commander Sky stepped forward. "Understand!" she cried. "Understand! All we understand is that you have joined forces with our enemies! You nearly defeated us! What more is there to understand?"

Godspeed gazed in wonder at Sky. "You should understand. You should know," she whispered, clutching her arm where the needle had gone in. "You were there!"

Himmel crossed his arms. "Physic?" he asked. "Mind-control?"

"It's possible…" Sky acceded. "Unlikely, though, that the Animalis could offer anything of value to a physic powerful enough to control Godspeed."

"Brainwashing?"

"This isn't a science fiction film, Himmel," Commander Sky said sarcastically. "Either she is a traitor, or she is not. The Cure will last approximately two to three weeks, after which time, Godspeed will regain her powers in increments. I would give her a month to recover sufficiently enough to escape."

"They could attempt rescue," Himmel suggested.

Sky shrugged. "I'll leave her to you, Himmel. You decide."

Sky left the bunker, and made her way down the left-most tunnel. When she had gotten far enough away, she gave in at last to her fears. What had she done!

She began to cry, lightly at first, and then, furiously and without restraint. It was too late—they had lost him.

Sky had been a member of the Brotherhood since the day she was born, a descendent of three generations of Brotherhood members. It was their duty and their calling to protect the frozen form of Magneto at all costs! They had done so, successfully, for over fifty years! She had suspected that Godspeed had discovered something. She could never have predicted what happened today. Not in her wildest dreams!

For fifty years, the Brotherhood had been waiting for the order to revive Magneto. From where, they did not know but they knew that they were waiting for it! It was all that mattered. For ten of those years, Sky had been second in command of the protection of Magneto. Her father had died before the order had come, and she had had no doubt that she would die before it came also.

Sky was suddenly, and for the first time in her life, glad that her father was dead. Oh, how disappointed he would be in her now!


	4. Chapter 4: Kindred Strangers

**Chapter 4: Kindred Strangers**

_"What have I done?"_

_Magneto, 2006_

"This is a terrible joke," Magneto said, more to himself that to anyone else, it seemed.

Fellswoop sat across from him, at a table where untouched food sat, neither having had much of an appetite. He scratched one of his claws absently along the wood, concentrating on nothing, and wishing that reality were not as horrible as he had just described it. It was strange, having been born into this war, he thought nothing of it; of course, he had an inherent sense that there should not be such a war, but the fact that there was one was not as revolting to him as he saw it to be to Magneto. The way things were…well, were just the way they were.

But for Magneto, who had disappeared before any of this had happened—it must have seemed a nightmare. It made Fellswoop sick inside—as if, somehow, he were to blame for all of it—as if, by just being who and what he was, he had caused this war, had done nothing to achieve peace between the species. He felt like a child, appealing to his father for help, because he had failed to help himself. He was the prodigal son. He had squandered his father's inheritance, and now had to crawl back to him to save himself. In his desire to see Magneto in the flesh, he who was a hero of mythic proportions to so many, Fellswoop had not considered the shame that would accompany such an encounter. Explaining the current situation to the mutant who had fought for all mutantkind had brought with it almost unbearable regret.

He was brought out of his unpleasant reverie by the sound of Magneto's voice. "It's Fellswoop, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me your position again."

He sat up a little straighter, his wings tight against his back. "I am the Commander in Charge of the Animalis forces, class 4."

Magneto nodded. "And this Godspeed? She is the Commander in Charge of the—" he waved his hand, thinking.

"Elementals, sir."

"Elementals, yes. And where is she? Why is she not here?"

Fellswoop shook his head. "I am not sure. She should be here. I can only think that she has been captured. If she has, they have cured her already and will try to discern from her why she was fighting against her own kind."

Magneto frowned. "Cured her? The Cure still exists?"

Again, Fellswoop felt that inexplicable sick feeling inside of him. "There is very little left, not enough to use as a full scale weapon. We have never been able to reproduce it—"

"But you have tried?"

Fellswoop averted his eyes. "We have, yes," he answered reluctantly.

"My God…" the man whispered, "my God…what have I done?"

"I have heard that the Elementals use it to punish their own, I do not know if this is true…"

Magneto got up from the table, buried his face in his hands, and just said, "What have I done?" over and over again until Fellswoop could not bear it any longer.

"Sir! I beg you would not blame yourself!" he cried. But Magneto continued, monotone and grievingly, What had he done? What had he done?

Fellswoop fell to his knees, and placed his hand on Magneto's arm. "You have done nothing! If you had not…" He was going to say, 'If you had not died,' but stopped himself, as, obviously, Magneto had not died. "If you had been with us from victory, this would not have happened, I'm sure! Therefore, blame us! Blame your successors! Blame…" his voice caught in his throat, "blame...me!" He felt something strange then—tears. He could not remember the last time he had cried. Perhaps he never had. Perhaps this was the first time in his life.

* * *

The disorientation, the weakness and the feeling that he had slept for an entire lifetime clouded Magneto's thoughts and distorted his perceptions. He had half a mind to pinch himself as many times as he could to wake himself up from this horrible dream! He kept feeling as if he should call for Mystique, or Pyro, or Juggernaut…someone he recognized! He was desperate for familiarity…and this stranger, with the deep black skin, and the strange purple wings, was so foreign to him as to make him frightened.

Somewhere in his mind, he knew that all that this mutant had told him was true. But at the forefront, there was, of course, denial. It could not be true! It simply could not be!

And even if it were, why could he not remember anything? All he knew was that he had been fighting in battle, had blinked, and had woken up in a container of liquid with a dozen unfamiliar faces peering down anxiously at him.

He had blinked—and fifty years went by like nothing.

He was afraid to blink again—afraid to close his eyes, lest he should open them and find himself in yet another decade.

Even now, as he held his hands across his face, he kept two fingers slightly apart, so that he could see through them, like a child at a horror film.

He felt the claws of the mutant called Fellswoop pressing into his arm. The feeling of a solid hand against his arm was comforting in a strange sort of way, and he wished the claws would dig deeper. He had a sudden desire to feel pain—for, truly, if nothing else seems real, pain always is!

It occurred to him suddenly, in his desperate desire to find someone he knew, that if only half a century had gone by in the time since he was supposed to have died, it was possible that some of the younger members of his group might still be alive.

"Tell me," he said, still feeling the pressure of that hand, "do you know if any members of my Brotherhood are still alive?"

Fellswoop frowned. "Brotherhood?" he asked. "It was the Brotherhood who guarded you in your encasement. I had never heard of them before."

Magneto bristled. "That seems strange, since it was my Brotherhood that set out to conquer the human race and fight the X-Men."

Again Fellswoop seemed confused. "Ex-men?" he shook his head. "I have never heard of the Ex-Men."

"Charles Xavier? The Wolverine?"

As Magneto said these names, Fellswoop shook his head, his eyes wide with curiosity. Magneto felt a shiver run through him. "But you know of me?" he asked. "How can you not know of them? They were my principal adversaries."

"The only adversaries we know of are the humans, sir, no others. Perhaps they have disappeared into history."

Magneto was perplexed. "But if you know of me, how can you not know that my army was called the Brotherhood of Mutants?"

Fellswoop's tears moved further down his face as he shook his head. "I do not know, sir."

His blood boiled. "Mystique, Toad, Sabretooth, Pyro?!" he cried.

At first, Fellswoop shook his head sorrowfully, and then stopped of a sudden on the name 'Pyro.' He got up from the floor, and walked over to the door and opened it. "Tymah," he said, "come in here."

The girl from the other room walked in respectfully, but self-assured. She stood near Fellswoop, and did not approach Magneto. Fellswoop closed the door again. "Tymah," he said, "a mutant called Pyro, do you know of him?"

Her eyes wandered, as she searched her mind. "Pyro…there is a very old mutant, outside of the city. I have never seen him myself, but he has lived through all the wars and I think he was there at the Great Battle, with you, sir," she nodded towards Magneto. "He was a fire mutant."

"_Was_?" said Magneto, as his heart fell. "Is he…is he dead?"

Tymah searched Magneto's face, curious about his concern. "He is dying, last I heard," she answered coolly. "I do not know any more than that. For some time, he was often referred to in matters of history, but I can't think when we last asked him for guidance." She shrugged. "He may be dead."

"I must see him."

Again, she searched his face. He knew now that she was trying to determine whether or not he was truly Magneto. "I can take you to him," she answered. "No one knows that I am party to this mission. Daytripper could transport us back to Elemental territory—but, is it really worth the risk?"

"Yes!" he said. "Yes! It is." If only for his own sanity, it had to be! He did not say this, but it was in his thoughts and his heart.

Tymah crossed her arms and walked past Fellswoop towards Magneto. She stared at him, at his face, into his eyes and down at his hands. "Are you really Magneto?" she whispered. "Really and truly?"

He sighed. "Yes."

Fellswoop took Tymah's shoulder, his claws indenting her shirt. "Do not question him. He is who he is."

She shrugged him off, and Magneto saw, with despair, the disdain she had for Fellswoop that she tried to hide, but could not.

"I see it in your eyes," he said aloud. "You hate him, don't you?"

Tymah faltered. "I…"

"I have always been hated, by someone, or someone else. I have been placed in categories—Jew, Mutant, _Elemental_…" he shuddered at the very idea of placing himself into a mutant category. "If I am to help you in any way, you must identify yourselves first and only as Mutants! As Brothers! If you cannot do that, then please, put me back in my coffin and let me die!"

Tymah seemed stunned, hurt, ashamed. All these feelings passed over her pretty face and finally stopped on shame. "Forgive me," she said quietly. She turned towards the other mutant. "Fellswoop," she said respectfully, with a nod, and then she turned and left the room.

* * *

When she was far enough away from that room, she flung herself into the wall, hit her fist against it and cried.

Oh, she knew he was Magneto!

Who else could look into the eyes of an Elemental and tell her to respect an Animalis, without meaning to be funny? Who else could have torn her heart open, seen the depth of her hate and made her see it too?

For the first time in her life, she knew that her life had been pointless. It grieved and sickened her and she wept for herself.

Shuddering like a child, Tymah pressed her forehead against the wall, felt the grainy dirt along it, felt the coolness of being underground. She let herself collapse, slowly, onto the floor, curled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, and rested against the wall. Her breath came in staggers, as the tears flooded, poured over, and flooded again.

"Hey."

Her hands flew defensively towards her face. "W-what?" she asked.

Daytripper approached her from behind. "I heard you crying. What is it?" he asked.

"Why do you care?" she cried. "Who cares why I'm crying? It doesn't matter! Nothing does!"

"I just…thought I'd ask."

She heard him walk up behind her and sit along side, against the wall. She tried to muffle her sudden intakes of breath, which accompanied her tears, with difficulty.

"You know," he said, "you don't have to pretend you're not crying, because I already know you are."

"Oh, sh-ut up!"

He did so and she guessed he probably would have sat there in silence for an eternity, if she had not spoken first. "I just…I just got a wake up call, you know. I've just been informed, in not so many words, that my life is a joke!"

"Who told you that?"

"Nobody told me! I just…you should have heard him, he thinks that Elementals and Animalis are the same—he really thinks that! And if they are, then…then I'm…"

"Tymah," Daytripper said, "I don't know you. I don't know why I'm here, really. Of all the teleporters in the world, I just happened to get the call. And of all the Elementals, you're the one who's here. We're here together, and that makes us partners, on the same team, and what not. So…even if your life has been pointless so far—it's not now. We have a purpose now, and us two—we're witnessing something great here. Don't you feel that?"

She did feel it. And it frightened her. "You sound so hopeful."

"I guess I am then," was his reply.

Tymah wiped her eyes and turned towards him, knowing full well that her face was puffy and red. He did not seem to care. He smiled. "I've never had anything to fight for, my whole life. Now we both have something that's real."

"I wish I was as hopeful as you," she said quietly, "I'm only afraid."

He wrapped the cuff of his shirt around his fingers, and wiped her face with it. She did not know why, but she let him. When he was finished, he smiled again and said, "You won't be afraid forever." He rolled up his sleeves, got up off the floor, and extended his hand to help her do the same, "Anyway," he said, "go wash your face. I think I made it worse."

Tymah did take his hand and she did wash her face. Afterwards, they made plans. Tomorrow, at Magneto's insistence, they would proceed to the outskirts of the former New York City, and try to find the mutant Pyro.


	5. Chapter 5: Visiting Friends

**Chapter 5:Visiting Friends**

"_Welcome to the future..."_

_-Magneto 2000_

Godspeed ran her hands down her long arms and felt the weakness of them. She felt nothing _but_ weakness—the wind, the thunder, the rain…it was all gone. It was as if the breath from her body had been replaced with a poison that still allowed her to remain alive, though her mind and body wished for death—desired it, even.

It was not enough that they had stripped her of her powers, her core, her essence—not enough that her closest and dearest comrades considered her a traitor—what made all of this even more humiliating was that they hadn't even caged or restrained her in any way, so sure were they that she would not consider escape without her powers.

And they were right.

She became aware of footsteps approaching from behind, and turned to face whoever it was that came to question her now.

Sky stood face to face with her, but Godspeed saw nothing in her bearing even remotely reminiscent of the anger and fury that she had shown before. Now that they were alone together, Godspeed not only sensed, but saw, fear.

Sky tilted her chin slightly higher, establishing her position of authority, in an attempt to mask her apprehension. "Human," she said, and the word rolled over her tongue, like an unpleasant aftertaste, "tell me where it is."

"Where what is?" Godspeed asked. In her heart, she was glad—the plan had worked, and her betrayal had not been for nothing. Magneto had been smuggled out of his hiding place successfully—only that could be what Sky was referring to.

Godspeed had long ago deduced that Sky was a member of this mysterious Brotherhood. In fact, she had been sure that Sky was in a position of some importance within it. This new interrogation confirmed her suspicions.

"Tell me where it is."

Godspeed walked away from her, but Sky flew towards her and held her still. "Tell me!"

Godspeed felt Sky's fingers digging into her arm, almost drawing blood. How weak she was! "Sky," she said softly, "why did you hide it?"

Sky's gripped tightened. "You did take it!"

"Obviously, I did not."

Sky considered this, and let her go. "You're disgusting," she exclaimed, "you orchestrated this entire battle—you fought your own people!"

"What does it matter?" Godspeed sighed. "At least there's a chance now—for all of this to end. Even it means my life. I am tired."

Sky slapped her, hard and swift, across the face. "There will never be peace, Godspeed!" she yelled. "You had no right to take him for your own perverted purposes! He was to be awakened at the appointed time and rise to glory, with the chosen few at his side, to become leader once again, with the less fit only existing to serve him! That was my destiny!" She hit Godspeed again, and kicked her in the side. "If I had lived, I would have been at his right hand! And we would have had power, true power, over the hearts of mutants!" She burst into hot angry tears, hitting Godspeed once, twice, three times more. "You took away my destiny!"

Godspeed rolled away from Sky's kicks and slaps, stood upright and felt something like a stab in her side where Sky had kicked her. Despite the pain, she managed to get in one good punch, breaking Sky's nose, before the other woman employed her powers and her rage to subjugate her at last.

* * *

Magneto was dressed in a pair of black slacks and a blue button-down. He seemed taller in this new garb, than he had wrapped up in a sheet, and Daytripper thought that that made sense. He paced, often crossing his arms and tapping his fingers contemplatively against them. Fellswoop, Tymah and the others were re-considering their next move. As much as they wanted to acquiesce to Magneto's request to find the mutant named Pyro, getting in and out of Elemental territory was not as easy as they had first assumed. 

Even though Tymah's involvement in the operation was not known, namely the faux-battle, the smuggling of Magneto, etcetera, her position among the Elementals was shaky at best. They probably assumed she was dead and if she were to miraculously appear once again, and on the other side of town, suspicions could be raised. Besides, Sensor mutants would surely be on guard against future Animalis invasion, and they would notice any new mutant, especially a class four, specifically Magneto, appearing in Elemental territory.

Their best and safest bet seemed to be to send Daytripper to find the mutant and bring him back here, but even that was tentative.

At first, Magneto insisted on being present at these conversations and debates. After two days of deliberation, however, it seemed he had grown restless. Daytripper couldn't blame him. As for himself, he was not invited to the negotiations, which was all right with him—he would do what they asked, no matter what, as long as he had he could serve Magneto.

Magneto's wandering eyes came to a stop on Daytripper, who had been staring, and upon being noticed, immediately looked away. Magneto approached him. "You sit there and stare and I can't figure out what your purpose is here."

He smiled sheepishly. "Well, I'm just here to do what I'm told," he said affably.

"What you're told?" Magneto repeated. Daytripper nodded. He considered this. "You know," he said after a moment's musing, "they won't let me go outside. You couldn't possibly help me with that, could you?"

Daytripper smiled and then frowned. "I don't know. Well…if it's safe, I don't know. It's not that I don't want to, it's just…" he trailed off. The other man looked disappointed, and Daytripper could not bear that. The Sensor Shield covered the surrounding forest, he had been told, and besides, no one was looking for him, and definitely not for Magneto. "Alright," he answered, "just, be warned. People say teleporting via someone else is nauseating."

"I've done it before, son," Magneto assured him.

Daytripper got up and tentatively reached for Magneto's shoulder. He touched it, and the two of them moved through time and space, appearing in a forest on the other side. When they reached it, Magneto shook his head, as if to shake away the sense of teleportation. He held on to Daytripper's shoulder for a moment and then, recovered, let go. He walked out a ways into the forest, taking deep breaths through his nose. He opened his arms slightly and dropped to the ground onto to his knees.

At first, Daytripper thought he had hurt himself. He seemed to have. He wrapped his arms around himself, and rocked back and forth, all the while staring up at the whistling tree tops. Daytripper walked briskly towards him. "Are you alright?" he asked desperately. Leave it to him to have killed the man that had survived fifty years in a tube!

"Yes, yes, I'm alright!" Magneto chastised. He still hugged himself, and he still rocked. And now, up close, Daytripper could see that he was crying. Not terribly so, it was more like his eyes were watering—they weren't red or glassy…they just wept. It was a calm, graceful kind of crying, without any shame or fear of being seen crying. Even in this, Magneto showed great dignity and grace. How strange.

Daytripper said nothing more. He sat on the ground away from Magneto, and looked away from him, so that he could weep in peace. After a while, the other man spoke. "It's strange," he began, "I don't remember being in stasis. I cannot feel how much time has gone by, though I know it has. And yet, being out here, I feel as if I haven't seen the sky in a hundred years."

He turned his head towards Daytripper. "I must seem ancient to you," he commented quietly.

Daytripper smiled. "It's not that," he said, "it's just…there aren't a lot of people getting past the age of forty these days."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

Magneto nodded. "Nineteen. When I was nineteen, I had a job mining coal in West Virginia, which probably doesn't exist anymore." He stood up. "I had survived the war, the camp, a trip across the Atlantic, I knew I had awesome power—and I was mining coal."

Daytripper frowned. "Which war?"

"The Second World War. I came here in nineteen-forty-nine."

He leaned forward, thinking hard. "Forty-nine, forty-nine…I don't know about that war," he said finally.

Magneto frowned, then shrugged. "It was a human war. The surviving humans might remember it, though they seemed to have already forgotten it even while survivors of it were still in great numbers. I think I might have forgotten it, too, at some point. And now, mutants know nothing at all about it."

"Tell _me_ about it," Daytripper said suddenly.

Magneto leaned on the ground and raised himself off of it. He walked forward and seemed to want Daytripper to follow, and he did. When he got to Magneto's side, the other man turned to him and said, "I think the world is a place where peace is impossible. What do you think?"

Daytripper stopped. It was such a direct, clear-cut question, that it stopped him in his tracks. Few people cared about his opinions, he had given up hope that they ever would. Yet here was Magneto, a god among mutants, caring earnestly what his thoughts were, wanting to know them. It took him a moment, but at last he spoke. "I think you're right," he said, slowly, thinking as he spoke, "but I also think that our job is probably to make the best of whatever little peace we can find…I mean, finding happiness wherever we can and trying to preserve it. There will always be conflict, but I think that all creatures share a potential to live together and, if we think real hard and want it badly enough, tolerate each other."

It seemed for a moment that this was not a satisfactory answer to Magneto. But unexpectedly, he smiled, a slow, satisfied smile. He reached out and put his hand on Daytripper's shoulder. "You're a wise man," he said.

A door opened behind them, on the ground, and Tymah walked towards them. "We've made a decision," she said, giving Daytripper a quick angry glance. He shrugged.

"What's the plan?" Magneto asked.

"I've convinced them to go forward with our original plan. Daytripper, myself and you will transport to the South District, where I think the mutant Pyro is located. If we don't find him within a single hour, we will transport back."

Magneto smirked. "You're giving me an hour to find my sanity?"

Tymah faltered. "I…hadn't exactly thought of it like that, but…yes…I suppose so."

"Very well. It will have to do."

She looked around and said, "Alright. You should come inside now. I don't think it's safe for you to be out here."

"My dear," Magneto said, "I've been trapped in a box for fifty years. I really need to stretch my legs."

Tymah inhaled deeply, and resignedly. "Very well," she said. "Sir." She nodded her head respectfully, turned and went back inside.

Magneto watched her go and then, turned towards Daytripper. "She likes you," he said grinning.

Daytripper's eyes widened. "Does she?"

Magneto clasped his arms behind his back soberly and did not answer.

* * *

It was like an apocalypse had occurred here, and no one living there realized it. 

People moved about as if they could not see the destruction around them. They walked or flew over huge chunks of concrete, piles of cinders, and timber and steel, as if these objects were simply cracks in the sidewalk, people in their paths.

They did not notice or did not care about the three new mutants who walked about the place, with their faces drawn, all speech faculties silenced. They walked past them, and did not give them a second glance. If Magneto had stood upon one of these piles of rubble and proclaimed himself the Messiah, he doubted whether he would have received a different response.

Tymah led the way, raising herself above the ground to avoid the rubble. Magneto preferred to walk, though he did not know why. They reached a building that had remained, remarkably, in tact and entered it.

A mutant was sitting idle on the steps, tossing a ball of water from hand to hand. When he was spoken to, the water collapsed in the palm of his hand, and was absorbed in the hand, as if the skin were a sponge.

"A mutant called Pyro, old, he live here?" Tymah questioned.

The boy nodded.

"Where?" said Tymah.

"You a weather-worker?" said the boy.

"Yes."

"Make it rain, I'll tell you."

The rain started immediately, along with a roll of thunder.

"No lighting!" said the boy. The thunder stopped.

"Now?" said Tymah.

He smiled, as if the sound of the rain gave him the most peculiar pleasure. "Upstairs, second door on the left," he said and slipped past them, towards the door.

When he had gone, Magneto, who had watched him leave, turned back towards Tymah. "Well?" she said. "Shall we?"

He nodded and they mounted the stairs. It was only one flight, but the stairs seemed to just continue on and on and never stop. His legs felt heavy and his whole body likewise.

They came suddenly to a door and then another. Tymah knocked and a woman answered. Magneto could hear two voices inside, but only one of the voices, the female voice, answered. The woman was not old, but neither was she young. She looked worn out, but a steady sort of woman, who would be just as ready to welcome the people at her door as she would be to shoot them, depending on the situation.

"Is there a mutant called Pyro here?" asked Tymah.

The woman peered closely at her. "Weather worker," she said. Tymah nodded. "I can tell your kind a mile away."

She said nothing more. Tymah waited, but the woman only looked at her. "Have we come to the wrong door?" she asked at last.

"I don't think so."

Again the woman stopped speaking. She looked now at Magneto, and then at Daytripper. But she did not move or invite them in. "May we speak with him?" Tymah asked, a note of exasperation in her voice.

The woman squinted her eyes. "Should I let them in?" she asked. At first Magneto thought that this question had been directed at Tymah. The woman had looked at her when she'd asked it. It was not until a voice from inside revealed that the question had been put to the other occupant of that sordid apartment.

"Who is it?" said the aged male voice.

"A weather worker, a metal worker and a teleporter."

A weak laugh was her response. "That sounds like the beginning of a bad joke," said the voice. "Let them in."

Tymah went in first, and Magneto allowed Daytripper to go ahead of him. The apartment was dark, dingy and smelled like food. It was not dirty, but it was not clean. The shadowy darkness did not help and the lack of any electrical light only amplified its surly appearance.

Magneto saw a man at the end of the room. He was sitting in chair. He was an old man of eighty or so. He was thin, unhealthily so, emaciated. One of his eyes was cloudy and gray and his hands, resting on the arms of the chair, revealed thin white veins. He seemed to be sitting in the only shaft of light in the entire apartment, while Magneto, Daytripper and Tymah stood in the shadows.

"And you are?" said the old man.

Tymah introduced herself. "I am Tymah, class three, weather worker. Are you the mutant called Pyro?"

The old man turned his head and answered bitterly, "There used to be a mutant called Pyro that lived here."

"And you're not him?" Tymah asked.

"No," said this man.

Tymah turned towards Magneto. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, "we were given the wrong information."

"I can give him a message," said the old man. "Who should I say it's from?"

"I can't tell you that," said Tymah, "it's a secret."

"What's the message?"

Magneto, his heart full of disappointment, and something like fear, said, "Tell him that Eric was here. And that he wished to speak to him."

The old man's hand flew to his chest. The woman who had answered the door rushed to him. She held his shoulders as he forced himself to his feet. "Oh God! I'm dying now!" he cried, though his voice never went above a whisper, "I'm dying now!"

"No, no," said the woman, "sit down! You're fine!"

"Who are you? Who's voice is that?!"

"What voice, dear?" said the woman.

"Who spoke just now! Who spoke?"

"That man there!" she cried, desperately trying to sit him back in his chair. "The metal worker!"

These words solaced him somewhat. "Metal worker?" he repeated. "You can see him? He's there!"

"Yes, dear, yes!" she said. "Right there! By the door!"

The old man took a tenuous step towards them. Magneto's hands shook and his heart beat like it would burst. Up close, the old man looked older and his thinness was terrifyingly skeletal. He walked up to Magneto, closed the gray cloudy eye and peered at him closely with the less cloudy one. "Are you sure I'm not dead?" he asked the woman.

"You here, as far as I can tell," she answered. "Alive."

His breath grew faster and his voice shook. "How?" he demanded. "How are _you_ alive?!"

Magneto's hands fell to his sides, his mouth dropped open and he thought he might faint. Of course, nearly sixty years gone by—of course he _would_ be older—but _so_ old? So…so close to death! "Pyro?" he whispered. "Is it you?"

The sound of his voice, more than his physical appearance, seemed convince Pyro that he was real, and in the room. He reached out and almost touched Magneto's chest, but stopped just short of doing so. "What the hell is going on?" he asked. "Tell me what the hell is going on."

* * *

Fathom wakened suddenly. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She stretched, slapping her cheeks to revive herself. Sensors had been kept up around the clock, on all sides of the territory and she was sick of it! Nearly four days had gone by and no sign of further Animalis invasion had been sited, sensed or predicted. And yet, Himmel insisted on them keeping twenty-four hour surveillance. Damn that mutant! 

With Godspeed's betrayal and Sky's unreliability, Himmel had been voted temporary Commander of the Animalis forces, despite the fact that he was only a class three, until a more suitable commander could be appointed. He had more military experience than anyone on the council, and the only living class fours were younger than twenty. Any decision Himmel made had to go through the council first, but besides that technicality, Himmel had all the powers of a Full Commander.

Fathom spat onto the ground at the thought. Such a mutant to be Full Commander! A class three! What would be next!

She crossed her arms huffily, and turned her mind towards what had awakened her. It had not been a sound, it had been a smell. What smell? She scratched behind her ears and yawned. What was the smell?

It was like rain…no…like heat…not, idiot! It was cold! Cold like…steel. Yes! "Steel…metal…" she said to herself. She sniffed the air. The smell was not here. Not a smell, then. A Sense. She had _sensed_ metal, not smelled it.

She stretched out her powers to locate the source. The sense had been strong, strong enough to fool her mind into thinking it had physically smelled something, when it had not. A class four metal worker. Yes…there it was. She saw the South District in her mind, sensed the metal. What class four metal worker would be in South District? And why?

Then, she smelt sulfur, close to the metal worker. And then…rain! She opened her eyes wide and leapt out of her seat so fast it toppled over with her in it. She cursed herself for a fool, then got up off the floor and raced faster than fast calling out to Himmel, and attracting the attention of anyone nearby.

One of the ones nearby happened to be Commander Sky, who, with speedy alacrity, apprehended Fathom and bid her be quiet. "What are you shouting about?" Sky demanded.

Breathless, Fathom pointed in no particular direction. "Tymah! I've found Tymah! She's in the South District with a teleporter I don't recognize and a _class four_ metal worker!"

Sky's eyes widened and her head tilted suspiciously. "A metal worker?" she repeated.

"A Class four! In the South District!" Fathom said, as she tried to break free of Sky's relentless grasp. "I have to tell the Commander!"

"I'll tell him!" Sky said icily. "Go back to your station!"

Fathom's face fell. "I've been sitting there all day!" she moaned.

Sky released her with a shove. "Station!" she demanded.

Fathom smoothed her rumpled shirt and without a word, turned from Sky and walked back down the hall, dragging her feet. Along the way, she convinced herself that she did not care the slightest bit about this mysterious metal worker, or why Tymah, whom they had supposed dead after the battle, should have miraculously been resurrected in the South District four days later. No, why should she care? This was not her war! These were not her people!

She decided, with the utmost sincerity, that despite the fact that she was paid to survey constantly, she was tired and it was time to take a serious nap. She deserved that much. And when she arrived back at her station, she mentally cursed Commander Sky, lay down on the floor and did just that.


	6. Chapter 6: The Brotherhood

**Chapter 6: The Brotherhood**

Sky walked away from Fathom and towards Himmel's quarters. He saw her pass his room and stepped out.

"Alright?" he asked.

"Fine," she nodded.

"Shouting?" he questioned.

Sky rolled her eyes. "Fathom thought she sensed something. She was caught in a nightmare and was sleep walking. I think we should get rid of her."

Himmel thought about this, but his eyes were expressionless. Finally, he nodded and turned back into his room. Sky walked on. Down, down, down she went until the air became stagnant and thick, filled with the smells of ages past. And she went further, beyond the tunnels that humans had dug for their filthy trains, to magnificent tunnels she had dug herself, with the help of many others.

The walls were of sleek metal brought up from the very core of the earth, spotless. In the middle of the greater tunnel, one of the few remaining Sensor Shields in the world stood, protected by a metal wall, shielding them from any sensor mutant of even the greatest capabilities. It had taken a hell of a time procuring it—she was told. Her father had told her the story and how many mutants had had to die so that they could get it.

"Code is dead!"

A mutant came running towards her, furious and frightened. She grabbed Sky's shoulders and her eyes were running over with tears. "Where have you been Sky?! Where have you been? They killed Code! Tymah and some freakish Animalis mutant! That bitch!"

Sky tried to shrug out of her grip. "I couldn't just leave Himmel! He would have suspected something! Magneta please! Let go!"

As if waking from a dream, Magneta looked with surprise at her own fingers digging into Sky's shoulders and drew back immediately. Magneta, as one might suspect, had been named after the great Magneto. Her father, like Sky's father, had been a member of the Brotherhood as had their fathers before them. Magneta and Sky had grown up together, fought side by side, and when the time had come, they, too, had been made official members of the Brotherhood, whose sole purpose for generations had been to protect the frozen body of Magneto. Unlike Magneta, though, Sky had also risen in the Elemental ranks, becoming a commander. Magneta fought when the occasion called for it, but she was not a part of the regular army.

"I'm sorry about Code, Maggie," Sky said consolingly.

The other woman ran her fingers wildly through her already wild hair. "Oh God! What will I do without him?" she cried. "Sky! I can't survive this!"

"You can and you will!" Sky said. "I did."

Magneta looked desperately towards Sky. "How? How? How could you have?!"

Sky stood up straighter and shrugged. "I don't know," she said, "I just did. I think, though, that _you_ can at least have your revenge. And that might help."

Magneta trembled. "You found her? You found Tymah! Where is she?!"

"Be calm!" Sky shouted back. "Get everyone together and I will tell you what I know. We must move quickly."

"You'll let me come with you?! Please!"

"If you calm yourself! You will not make a muddle of this to take petty revenge, Magneta. Magneto is with her and he must not be harmed! You understand?"

Magneta brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. "Yes Commander," she answered. And they went to the main chamber.

* * *

"What do think's going on up there?" 

Tymah shrugged, leaning against the banister, listening to the rain. "It's none of our business," she replied.

Daytripper looked up the stairs. "Still…I'd love to be a fly on the wall in that room."

"A what?" Tymah asked.

"A…fly on the wall…" he repeated.

"What are you talking about? Why would you want to be a bug, Tripper?"

Daytripper smiled. Of course, she wouldn't know. "It's an old human expression," he explained, "it means I wish I were small enough to be in there, be unnoticed, and listen to everything they're saying…like a fly on the wall."

"A _human_ expression?" Tymah said. "Why do you know human expressions?"

Tripper shrugged. "I just heard it some place, is all." He smiled again and laughed to himself.

"What?" Tymah asked.

"Nothing," he said, laughing still.

"What!" Tymah insisted, suppressing a smile.

"Ah, it's nothing! Just…you called me Tripper. I thought it was funny, that's all."

Tymah blushed discreetly. "Well, it just slipped out. It's easier than saying Daytripper," she responded defensively.

"Sure, Tym, I get it."

"Tym? Is that my name now? Tymah is easier to say than Daytripper."

"Yes it is," he grinned, "what does it mean, anyway, Tymah?"

"It's a Russian word. It literally means mist."

"Are you Russian?"

"No," she said, "but my mother didn't want to give me a plain name. Every weather worker is named Sky, or Misty, or Storm or something. So, she found that word out somewhere—I don't remember where—and liked it. And there you go."

"It's nice," he said.

"It's alright," Tymah answered.

It was quiet for awhile. All Daytripper could hear was the quiet, distinct rumble of Magneto's voice through the floor boards. Nothing distinct, just the sound.

He was concentrating hard on it, trying to discern actual words, when the boy with the water-ball came running in. "Hey! Another weather worker made the rain stop! Make it rain again!"

Tripper looked out the grimy window. He had not noticed that the rain had stopped. Tymah looked over at the boy. "Maybe someone else doesn't want it to rain. I'm not going to have a fight in the middle of the street just because you want it to rain!"

The boy made a great ball of water in his hands and look devilishly at her.

"Don't you dare!" Tymah shouted.

"Make it rain!"

"Oh, just do it Tym," Tripper said. "It can't hurt."

"Oh!" she sighed. "Fine!" The rain started and stopped again, almost immediately.

"Hey!" the boy cried, aiming the water ball at her.

Frustrated, Tymah walked to the door and opened it. She looked out, tensed and came back in again. "Oh no…" she whispered.

The water ball splashed over her back. She spun around. "You little bastard!" she cried. "I could kill you with one bolt of lightning, do you know that?! Now get out of here! There's going to be a fight and you don't want any part of it!"

Her anger and the blue electricity that had started sparkling on her fingertips frightened the boy and he ran out of the apartment through another door.

"What's going on?" Daytripper asked.

"Sky is here! We've got to go!"

* * *

Tymah and Daytripper had left the room. And the nameless woman, who seemed to be Pyro's caretaker, or his wife possibly, went into another room. Alone, the two men just stared at one another, until Pyro grew too weak to stand. He went to his chair and sat down. "It's amazing, isn't it?" he commented raspily. 

"What is?" Magneto asked.

"I'm older than you now. Did you even realize that?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't seem possible."

Pyro's face grew grave. "No. It doesn't."

They were quiet for some time. Magneto did not know whether he should sit or stand or just leave altogether. His reasons for coming here in the first place were fast eluding him. He was not sure of anything at all.

"Pyro," he said at last, "what's happened to me? To the world? What's happened?"

"Don't call me that," he shuddered. "It's just John now. Everybody has a cool mutant name these days, and cool mutant powers." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. It took him several strokes with his bony fingers, but he lit it at last and stared hungrily at it. "This used to be mine," he mused. "I could feel it in me. I still do sometimes. But nothing can ever give me back the power I once had over it."

"You've lost your powers?"

Pyro nodded. "I'm too old now. Too frail. I can't control it anymore. It's like having a stroke and not being able to control an arm. Or breaking your back and not being able to walk." He looked thoughtful. "No…it's more like losing all your limbs and still being able to feel them. There's a word for that, isn't there?" He looked up.

Magneto was glad to be in the shadows. He could not hold back the tears, but thankfully, Pyro could not see them. "Phantom pain…" he said.

"Phantom pain…yeah. It's like that." He closed the lighter and put it away. "You asked me something?"

"I asked you if you knew what's happened to me? I don't remember anything. Just a battle… and then, this."

Pyro grinned. "That battle you remember…they call that the Great Battle, around here. You died and it pushed us all forward, forward to avenge you. It was brutal! We killed every human we could find. We killed ourselves and them because they killed you. It was brilliant. Bloody. And then…it was over." His cloudy eye clouded with memory. "We had a huge funeral for you. Incredible. Millions of mutants…everywhere! We burned your body on the biggest pyre the world had ever seen. And I lit it!" He stretched out his hand and lit the pyre all over again in his mind. "And I…I _cried_ for you!" he nodded shakily. "I wept and watched you burn. We stayed up all night, every one of us, until the fire burnt out. And then Angel took your ashes in an urn and flew as high as he could and poured them down over the earth. I remember!" he declared emphatically. "I remember it all!"

Magneto said nothing; he just shook his head and listened.

"I remember it," Pyro repeated, "but it's wrong! Because you're here. You didn't die. But I was there…I _watched_ you die…the life just spilled out of your eyes. And I screamed 'Magneto is dead!' and then I watched as the most incredible bloodbath flooded over the earth…I _do_ remember it!" He shook his head, frustrated and confused. "I _do_…" he whispered.

Magneto swallowed, trying to get his mind around it all. "What happened then? How did all this begin?"

"Oh, it didn't take long," he said sourly, "not long at all. Who should lead us? How should we decide? It was thought that another class four should command us…someone within the primary Brotherhood. Mystique, or even I was contemplated. For awhile the Brotherhood ruled like a council. But people grew frustrated. Everyone wanted absolute power. Everyone thought that their powers were superior. Then, classes started fighting classes—we tried to stop it, but then, they began to fight back. I guess," he said softly, "we just got so used to fighting…we couldn't stop."

"Is anyone else left?"

"If I remember correctly…I'm not sure of anything now…but Sabretooth and Toad were forced to go to the Animalis side. They might be dead. Toad should be, at least. Or very old. Or maybe he's in a stasis pod too," he added sarcastically. "Mystique was killed trying to take command of us all. The X-Men disintegrated. They had to choose a side. Most of them went over and tried to defend the remaining humans. They succeeded to a degree. There are still some humans left. Actually," Pyro said with a tone of amusement in his voice, "Wolverine has been defending a nearby human colony, just over the border in Canada. The Elementals tried to eradicate it at first, but he just wouldn't give up, so they eventually left it alone."

"The Wolverine is alive?"

"Last I heard."

"Is it far, this colony?"

"You've got a teleporter with you." Suddenly, Pyro began to cough. It was just like clearing his throat at first, and then it was horrible. He coughed and sputtered and shook and writhed for breath. The woman came in again and she had some kind of an inhaler in her hand, which she put in his mouth and squeezed. It took some minutes, but he gradually calmed. The woman held him until he had done so.

Magneto stared at him and all he saw was that angry young man with fire in his eyes, now reduced to a sick, old man who could barely see. "John…" he whispered. "You're dying."

"Yes…yes, I'm…dying…" he heaved. "And I don't want you to watch."

"What is it?"

The woman answered. "Cancer. Lungs."

"Hyster…ical, isn't it?" Pyro tried to smile. "I was so sure….I'd…die in battle…and never even…know it. But now…now, I can feel death…breath by breath…"

"Can't I help you…there are healers!" Magneto pleaded.

"No…"

Again the woman spoke. "We have nothing to give them. It's probably too late now, anyway."

"Can I give them anything?"

"No…" Pyro said. He grasped the arms of his chair and took a ragged, struggling breath and his knuckles whitened. Finally he looked up at Magneto. "I've told you…everything I know…now…just figure it all out…maybe this is all just…an awful dream…one of those…alternate…universes."

"I hope so," Magneto said.

"Get out of here!" the woman said suddenly.

"I'm sorry," said Magneto, alarmed at her sudden exclamation.

"No…" she said quietly, "they're here. And they're looking for you. Elemental soldiers! Get out of here!"

Pyro grabbed Magneto's wrist. "I don't think you'll see me again."

Magneto took his hand. "Don't say that. Stay alive. At least, until I can tell you what's happened."

"I'm hoping that when I'm dead, I'll be able to figure it out myself. She's been reading the Bible to me," he indicated the woman, who still held him, "if this isn't the Apocalypse…I'd hate to see the real thing."

"Go! Go!" the woman insisted. "Please! They'll destroy the building."

Pyro held on tighter. "Magneto."

"Yes?"

"It _is_ you…isn't it?"

Magneto nodded tearfully. "Yes."

Pyro let go. "Good bye Eric."

"Good bye Pyro."

* * *

Daytripper heard a door open and saw Magneto on the stairs. He looked pale and in shock. Tymah yelled to him. 

"We have to go! Now!"

The front door opened and a tall mutant with long, blonde hair entered it, with another mutant who was shorter and older-looking. Despite their height differences, they had similar look to them, a way of standing and moving; they might have been sisters.

"Tymah," the tall one said, "stay where you are."

Tymah stood firm. "Sky...let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain," Sky answered, "you're a traitor."

"No!" Tymah cried.

The shorter woman stepped past Sky and shouted, "You filthy bitch! You and your filthy Animalis friend killed my husband!"

Sky put her arm out to prevent the shorter woman from going any further, but the woman looked mad, stricken with the greatest grief. Her face was pulled taut and her eyes were glassy and red. She let Sky's arm hold her where she was, but Daytripper was convinced that if she had wanted to, she could have broken that arm, come forward and strangled Tymah to death.

Sky drew a Cure weapon from behind her and aimed it at Tymah, looked briefly towards Daytripper, but neither of the two women seemed to have noticed Magneto. "Don't make this difficult Tymah," Sky said slowly. "You're coming with me, one way or the other."

Suddenly, a great metal ball came crashing through the window. It caught both women in the gut, sending them backwards. The shorter woman, who appeared to be a metal worker, took control of the ball and turned it into a kind of spear. She flung it at Tymah, but the spear flew in the opposite direction, barely missing the shorter woman. She searched around for who had re-directed the spear, and finally her eyes landed on Magneto, who held it in his hand.

Tymah and Sky fought out through the opening that the metal ball had made. They tried to hit each other with lighting bolts and great quantities of air, but neither was a match for the other—their powers were equal. Daytripper teleported to Tymah with the intent to grab her and put her some place out of the way and then get Magneto—but he never got the chance. As soon as he landed near Tymah, the shorter woman, who had somehow gotten hold of the Cure weapon, fired it at him and hit him in the neck.

* * *

Magneto watched as Daytripper fell, writhing with the all-too-familiar effects of the Cure. The boy knew nothing now, but his own pain and anguish. Tymah fought hard with the other weather-worker, but it was like fighting her reflection. Magneto directed his attention to the woman with the Cure weapon. He directed the spear towards her hand and the weapon was knocked out of it. She turned towards him. 

"Magneto!" she cried. "I don't want to fight you. Please!"

"Don't fight then!" he replied. He went to retrieve the Cure weapon, but she beat him to it and pointed it at him.

"Please," she begged. "I'm a member of the Brotherhood! If I hurt you…let me explain!"

"The Brotherhood?" he asked.

Tymah flew backward into the wall of the building and close to Magneto's feet as a lighting bolt from Sky struck a puddle she had been standing in. She shook for a moment with electricity, but redirected the current towards Sky, who was unprepared for it.

"Yes! The Brotherhood! We exist still…and only to serve you!"

"Serve me!" he repeated. "Am I to consider being kept in a freezer for fifty years a service to me!"

"If you would only let us explain!"

"I've heard enough!"

He called up his powers and created a magnetic field in his hand and pushed it towards the woman with a vengeance. It stuck her in the stomach and she fell to the ground. She took the field into herself and redirected it to Magneto, but he had already enveloped himself in another shield. Her efforts resulted in the magnetic force bouncing back to her, rendering her seemingly unconscious.

Sky and Tymah were locked in an electrical battle. Each one directed electricity at the other; the bolts had collided. If one of them stopped generating their bolt, she would be struck by the other's. Magneto turned his attention to Tymah, with the intent of creating a shield around her to help her against the other mutant. Too late. The woman whom he had thought to be knocked out rose and fired at Tymah. She immediately stopped generating the electrical bolt, was struck with Sky's bolt and hit the side of the building, writhing and seizing.

Now, the two women faced Magneto. "Come with us sir," they said.

"If I don't?"

"We will make you," said the taller mutant. The shorter one looked skeptically at her. "For your own benefit, sir."

He shook his head. "You disgust me," he said from within his shield. "I am Magneto. _You_ would force _me_?"

"We would…you do not understand what has happened since you walked the earth," said the taller one. "We must explain it to you."

"I understand very well what you and mutants like you have achieved with your ruthlessness. I have no interest in learning more from you." And with that, he generated an incredible magnetic pulse, which pushed the women away from him and held them down as he rose swiftly from the ground and into the air. Even as he flew from them, he held them to the ground as long as his powers would allow. Finally, he was too far away and he lost his grasp upon them. He descended in his shield-bubble to the ground below. There was nothing he could do for Tymah and Daytripper. He would make it to the human colony on foot.


	7. Chapter 7: Humans and Wolves

**Chapter 7: Humans and Wolves**

_"You should have killed me when you had the chance!"_

_-Magneto, 2004_

Once he had gotten past the city, what he saw was more than incredible—it was surreal. Though many of the houses in what had once been a busy suburb had crumbled over time, or had unknowingly become casualties of war, a great number of them stood upright and relatively untouched, aside from broken windows. He had walked for many hours and he was tired.

Magneto approached a sturdy looking house. It was brown and white, large, and though the door was slightly off kilter, the numbers etched into it were clear, 559. He reached and touched the numbers, metallic, golden. They gleamed in the sunset and seemed to dimly reflect the reality they had once represented, but did no more. He walked through the door. It was eerily quiet and the air was still. "Is there anyone in here?" A light breeze was his answer.

There was a long hallway, which led into a kitchen. He searched the drawers and found matches and candles. He lit the candles as darkness began to fall. He wondered if Tymah and Daytripper were dead—he wondered exactly how many people, how many mutants had died on account of him over the years. He wondered who had lived here. It was rather like the images he had seen of Pompey, after Vesuvius had destroyed it. He remembered hearing that people had been caught so off guard, that the blast and the subsequent lava and dust had covered and killed them during whatever activity they had happened to be engaged in at the time. When he had seen the pictures, he had seen bodies of men and women, petrified through time, sitting at table, or weaving, hammering or simply holding a child, frozen in time, unaware that they were dead.

And though there were no bodies here, there were forks, knives and plates, set up as if at any moment a mother would call her children down to dinner. There was a pot on the stove—whatever had been inside of it was gone, but it was dirty on the inside, waiting to be washed. A cutting board and a knife rested on the counter. The plates were clean and for some reason that made him sad.

Trying not to think of these people whose lives had been ended before they could eat their dinner, their last meal, Magneto looked into the cabinets for any food that might have survived. He found a can of condensed Campbell's chicken noodle soup, opened it and ate it as it was. He could not bear to sit on the chairs that had been waiting fifty years to be sat upon, so he sat on the floor. He could not even contemplate sleeping in the beds he knew would be upstairs, so he slept where he sat.

All night he dreamt of a faceless family who constantly tried to come down to dinner, but were prevented every time.

* * *

Daytripper woke up alone, on a dirty floor, facedown, with his arms positioned uncomfortably under his body. He struggled to sit up and tried to massage his prickling arms to life again. He saw nothing at first, no bars, no windows, no walls. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he thought he could see a doorway. Before he had decided to go to it, the door opened. 

"You awake?" said a man's voice.

"I hope not," said Daytripper.

He heard the other man laugh. "Get up."

He got up.

"Come here."

He went.

The man punched him in the face and he went down like a tree. The back of his head hit the ground hard, bounced slightly, and he was out again, pleasantly unconscious.

* * *

Tymah spat blood. Sky looked closely at her. "You're Cured. You have no power and he obviously does not care that you've been captured. Tell me where he is." 

"Why?"

Sky backhanded her. "It is not for you to ask!" she screamed. "Just tell me!"

Tymah rubbed her burning cheek. "Explain to me why. Why you would keep this secret for so long! Why it was a secret in the first place! It doesn't make any sense!"

Sky grabbed her by her hair. "You stupid human," she growled, "there's a reason why you don't know! If you knew, you would be one of us!"

It dawned on her, quite suddenly, that Sky had been trying to hide something all of this time, and had just failed. "Oh my God…." Tymah whispered, "_you_ don't know."

"What?" Sky released her grip and Tymah crawled away, head aching, ribs smarting. She was so bruised, she was not even sure what hurt exactly—or if her whole body was simply broken.

"You don't know…" Tymah repeated. "You have no idea why you've been doing what you've been doing…why you've had to hide…why you've had to keep Magneto the way he was."

"Shut up human!" Sky reddened. "We know! _I_ know!"

Tymah continued in an almost delirious state. "You could have freed him at any time. If you really thought he was meant to rise with the Brotherhood at his right hand and have absolute power over mutants, you could have freed him." She leaned heavily on the wall, every inch of her throbbing with pain from repeated "questioning." She laughed breathlessly. Pain and deprived sleep had made her daring, almost euphoric. "You don't know…" She laughed and laughed and laughed.

Tymah very nearly giggled and would have continued to do so, until Sky hit her a final time, and she passed out at last.

* * *

"Hey, hey…shh…" 

Tymah woke up to a calming voice, urging her to be quiet, as she jumped up with a painful start. She could feel how swollen and bruised she was within moments. Her blurred vision cleared and the young man that stood over her continued to 'shush' her.

"Spit?" she asked quietly. "What are you doing here…?"

He put his finger to her lips. "You have got to learn to shut up," he said. "Listen," he whispered, "I don't know what the hell is going on, but you have to believe me, that I had nothing to do with what Sky did to you."

Tymah nodded. "I know that…" she whispered.

"Y-you do?"

Tymah nodded again, trying to smile.

Spit sighed. "God, I thought that you thought that this had to do with us. With Himmel and the Elementals, but I'm telling you, it doesn't. I don't know what in hell Sky is playing at, but Himmel doesn't even know you're here."

Tymah shook her head. "I can't even begin to tell you."

"Then don't. I don't care. You're my friend and I don't trust Sky. Come on," he stood up and offered his hand to her.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm getting you out of here."

Tymah looked away. "Spit…" she said ruefully, "you don't understand. I've been Cured."

"You think I'm stupid? You think I don't know that?"

She put her hands to her face. "Oh God, do I look different?"

"Except for the bruising, no."

She stared at him. "Then…how do you know?"

"I know because there is nothing keeping you down here. No guards. No locked doors. Sky thinks you'll be too afraid to leave without your powers. Godspeed is."

"Godspeed?! She's here?"

Spit nodded. "Down the hall. And that guy you were captured with. He's down there too. And there's nobody around that's keeping you here. You can just leave."

Tymah pushed herself off of the floor, and took Spit's hand to make the rest of the way up. Every movement ached. She put her arm around her stomach and limped down the hallway, still clinging to Spit's hand. "Here's that guy," Spit gestured to a closed door. She opened it.

Daytripper lay on the floor, clearly unconscious. She got to her knees gingerly and tried to rouse him. "Tripper, wake up. Come on. We're getting out of here." He moaned and his eyes opened.

"Tym?" he murmured. "Are you going to punch me in the face too?"

"What? No!"

"Oh, good," he replied. "Cause every time I wake up, someone comes in here and punches me in the face."

"Can you stand?"

"Um…you mean, up?"

Spit took Tripper by the arm. "Come on, man," he insisted, "we're on borrowed time here."

Daytripper got to his feet in a dazed kind of way. He looked at Tymah. "Oh, wow, you're a mess."

"Thanks," she muttered. "Spit, help me."

The three of them made their way further down the hallway. Daytripper looked around him in a confused stupor. He might have had a concussion or something worse. They came to another door which Spit identified as Godspeed's room. They entered.

Godspeed lay on the floor with her eyes closed. "Sky, I swear if you don't kill me today, I am going to give you a reason," she said without opening her eyes.

"Godspeed?" Tymah said, her eyes flooding with tears. Godspeed jumped up.

"Oh my God," she whispered, "Tymah!"

"Godspeed…" Tymah repeated. "C-come on, we're getting out of here."

"Tymah, I told you if I should be captured, you were not to come for me!" Her tone of elation at seeing Tymah had quickly changed into anger.

"We didn't…come to rescue you," Tymah explained shamefully, "we were—captured."

Godspeed looked at her in horror. "Oh no…" she moaned. "You've been Cured. Sky Cured you!"

Tymah could only nod, as her tears cascaded down her face. "W-we have to leave. Now."

"Not without my powers," Godspeed responded.

Spit interjected. "Commander, do you really think that Sky will let you get your powers back? She'll kill you before that happens!"

Godspeed looked at the wall. "Then I will die."

"No!" Tymah declared. "You can't! We succeeded, _you_ succeeded! You must come and know your victory!"

Godspeed got to her feet and stood as powerfully and steadfastly as she could have ever been, with or without her powers. "I will not go out there as a Human!"

"You don't have a choice!"

Godspeed came towards Tymah and held her shoulders. "Yes I do. And knowing that my efforts have actually accomplished something will make it easier for me to die."

"No!" Tymah cried. She felt like a child. She _was_ a child! "Please…" she begged. "We need you," she hid her face in her hands, "I need you!"

"Hey…do I hear footsteps?" Daytripper asked curiously.

"Shit…" Spit said, "come on. It's now or never."

"Please come with us!" Tymah begged one last time.

"Tymah," Godspeed answered soothingly, "it is over for me. Take her and go," she said to Spit.

This was not happening! No! She reached for Godspeed, but Spit had her arms. She called for Godspeed, but Spit's hand blocked her mouth. She watched as the door closed, as Godspeed smiled and looked at her for the last time. The door seemed to erase Godspeed altogether, make her obsolete. She knew she was crying and that she wanted to scream. Her aches and pains and broken bones seemed to disappear as she struggled to save the woman she had served for so long and come to love, the only mother she had ever known, and one of the few people she had ever cared about. The door swung and slammed on the only part of her life that had ever really mattered to her.

And, as easily as a door swinging on its hinges, it was gone.

* * *

Knowing how far away he was from the Canadian border, Magneto had taken a chance, and had made his magnetic bubble to float above the ground and travel faster. After some hours, he set down again, to rest, exhausted from maintaining a continuous field. He was somewhere in the Adirondacks. The lake was pristine and the trees seemed untouched by the chaos that the rest world had been through. He scooped up some water with his hand and drank it. Like the air, it was cold, crisp and clean. For a moment, his only desire was to stay by that lake and never leave it. 

Magneto had not been so touched by that house he had spent the night in to be foolish enough to leave without supplies. He had found a man's coat, a good pair of boots, a sweater, a hat and some gloves. He had found a backpack and had put socks and underwear he had found in drawers inside of it, along with whatever nonperishable food he could find and an empty water bottle, which he now refilled. More importantly, he had also found a map, which he consulted after filling the bottle.

His greatest challenge would not be getting to the border—he was, in fact, almost there—no, the problem would be finding the human colony once he got there. The border stretched for miles and he could not be sure where exactly the colony would reside. There was certainly no indication on the map.

However, he had an idea of where they could be. The Canadian border fell right in the middle of Lake Ontario. He felt that it would make sense that a people who were refugees of a sort, ought to be near water. If Pyro had been right and the human colony was at the border between New York and Canada, Lake Ontario would be the first place to look.

* * *

Spit led Tymah and Daytripper down a tunnel until they reached a flight of stairs which led up to grate, from which they could escape. They climbed the stairs and found that much of the grate had been buried in rubble, but that there was a small opening through which they could squeeze one person at a time. 

"I'll go first," Spit said. He would make sure the area was clear. And protect them if it was not. Daytripper helped Tymah up after Spit had given the go-ahead and followed a few moments after.

The city was dark and quiet. Spit went ahead of them a few feet, and then beckoned them forward. They went nearly twenty blocks before anyone spoke. "Alright," Spit said, "The river is a few blocks away. There's a boat there. It has an engine, but I suggest rowing it until you're clear of the city. Hide in the suburbs until you're healed, and then…" He shrugged. "I don't think you can come back, Tymah," he said, "but there's some supplies on the boat, some weapons and food and clothes and stuff."

"Oh, well that is just the nicest thing I have ever heard…"

Tymah and Daytripper turned. Sky stood, with Magneta at her side, smiling sadistically. "Unfortunately, none of you are going anywhere." Lightning crackled in the sky and electricity sparkled on her fingertips. Spit was quick, though. He thrust a fireball at them without a second thought and they ran.

"Get down!" he shouted, as a metal beam came swinging through the air. They hit the ground and the beam sped over them. "Come on!" he screamed. "Move aside!"

They did and a blast of fire came shooting out of Spit's hands. Tymah saw Magneta shield herself from it, but she could not see Sky. The fire caught on to some rubble in the street, set it ablaze, blocking Magneta's way, and then it exploded. Daytripper held Tymah to the ground, shielding her from the blast with his body. Spit called to them, pointing furiously at a storm drain. He dropped into it and Daytripper pulled Tymah up and led her to it. Once in the sewers, Spit guided them through tunnel after tunnel of water and waste until Tymah was sure she would vomit. She noticed the tunnel getting wider and wider and then, at last, it led out into the open air.

Spit did not need to tell them what they had to do next. He jumped, and they followed, down into the Hudson River. The salt stung every wound and the icy water enflamed every injury. But she swam! She felt a hand close on her arm, pulling her towards them. She surfaced, along with the others. "We can't go to the boat!" Spit called. "She knows about it. We have to hide."

"Where?"

She never got an answer. Without warning, the river suddenly sucked into itself, pulling them in like a receding tide. Though they tried, they could not swim against it. Lightning flashed as they were pulled deeper into the river. The water became a wave and threw them all bodily into a whirlpool. Tymah looked up, struggling for air, and saw Sky floating above them against the glow of a full moon, commanding the storm. Thunder like she had never heard and lighting like she had never seen cascaded behind Sky like furious fireworks. The whirlpool drew her in at last, and she spun and spun. Every time the lighting flashed, she saw one of them—sometimes Spit, sometimes Tripper. She spun so violently, she thought sometimes that she saw herself. Her body grew limp and she let the water take her. Then, all of a sudden, it stopped. The waters calmed, the whirlpool disappeared. Daytripper surfaced, gasping, clawing the water for something to hold onto.

"Where's…where's…Sky?" Tymah asked breathlessly.

He shook his head.

She looked up. The sky was empty and clear, as if nothing had just happened. "Wait! Where's Spit?"

Daytripper looked around him. Without a word, he dove into the water. After a minute, he came back up, pulling Spit with him. Tymah swam to them and shook Spit and slapped his face. He came to rather unexpectedly, spitting up river and coughing.

Tymah was relieved beyond measure and threw her arms around both of them, nearly dragging them back into the depths. "I guess…" Spit said, sputtering, "I guess I'm coming with you guys."

* * *

They were there. And they saw him immediately. Floating in his magnetic field, high above the ground. 

Below him was a mass of tents and makeshift cabins and more and more people spilling out of them, and looking up at the sky. At him.

He set down outside of the camp, but it made no difference. A hundred people were on him at once. He let them take him and bind his hands with rope. He offered no resistance, and he said nothing.

They pulled him into the camp. Children and adults alike stared at him in wonder. Some of them grimaced, some were agape, others spat at him. Someone slapped his face.

He was taken into one of the wooden cabins and tied to a chair. A man wrapped in animal skins and patches of old clothes made sure he was securely tightened and then backed away from him. "You mind telling me what you're doing here, mutant?" he asked.

"I'm looking for someone," Magneto answered.

"Really?"

"Yes. I was told he would be here. I must see him."

The man crossed his arms. "Who might that be?"

"When I knew him, he was called the Wolverine. His name is Logan. He is a mutant."

Clearly, from his expression, the man had not expected this reply. He looked at the other men around him and then back at Magneto. "Who should I say is calling?" he asked.

"Tell him Eric wants to speak with him. He knows me."

"Eric?" the man scoffed. "What kind of a mutant name is that?"

Magneto smiled to himself. "Everybody has a cool mutant name these days. Eric is more unique."

This seemed to amuse the man. "Well, I guess if you know Logan, you might be alright. Greg," he said to one of the men, "go find Logan." Another man nodded and headed toward the door.

"Thank you Greg," Magneto said.

Greg left, and the man turned once more to Magneto with that same look of curious amusement. "You didn't put up much of a fuss," he commented.

Magneto shrugged. "If I had, it would have defeated the purpose of my coming here."

"What is you purpose here, _Eric_?"

He smiled. "I only wish to see Logan." The man nodded, and eyed him curiously. "Well, you know my name. It's only fair that I should know yours."

His expression changed in a moment. "Fair?" he growled. "Don't use that word here. Don't talk to _me_ about fair!" he yelled, jamming his thumb against his chest as he said the word 'me.' "Fair has no place in this world. That word is obsolete."

Magneto realized his mistake and regretted it. "You'll forgive me," he replied quietly, "there is a great deal of which I am not aware. It was not my intention to offend."

"Holy shit!"

The crowd of fur-clad men suddenly broke apart, like a piece of paper, and the Wolverine ripped through it, claws extended. He pushed passed the man who had bound him to the chair and headed straight for Magneto.

He froze suddenly, just as his arm came around for a swing. The tips of his claws were centimeters from Magneto's face, but he held them there. "Hello Logan."

"This is one hell of a nightmare!" Logan growled, unable to move.

"It's not a nightmare. This is real."

"Please God just let me kill him!" he cried.

"Logan," Magneto said in a measured tone, "in a moment, I'm going to let you go. You can kill me. It's your choice. But I swear to you, this is real. I am not a dream."

"Not possible. You died fifty years ago!"

"So I've been told."

Logan struggled against Magneto's power, but to know avail. The men stood dumbfounded, frightened and confused. "You _can't_ be alive…" Logan said unsurely.

"I _am_ alive," Magneto insisted. "I don't know what has happened. And I don't know why it has happened. But it has. And I need your help."

Logan began to laugh. "You have got to be kidding me."

Magneto stared at him. He had changed. There was anger in him, as there had always been. But now, it was of a different kind—an anger built upon despair, and hopelessness. A darkness in his eyes and countenance, reflective of an inconsolable grief, an uncontrollable rage. He had let his beard grow, and his hair was long. He looked wolfish, animalistic. He was his namesake now—the Wolverine, in every sense of the term. And as Magneto watched him, he saw his feral eyes glow with a conflicting desire—he wanted to kill Magneto, yes, but even he was not immune to curiosity. There was a chance that they could work out their differences, but an even greater chance that Logan would slit his throat. Well, seeing as he was supposed to be dead anyway, Magneto was not averse to the idea as much as one might expect. He took a deep breath and looked directly into Logan's eyes.

"I'm going to let you go now."


	8. Chapter 8: Blood Drops

**Chapter 8: Blood Drops**

"_America was going to be the land of tolerance…of peace…"_

_-Magneto_

Magneto looked right into his eyes. Logan, frozen in place, held by Magneto's power, saw something in those elusive eyes that he had never seen before—honesty.

"I'm going to let you go now," Magneto said.

And Wolverine let his claws continue on their allotted course, sliced through Magneto's face and throat, nearly taking off his head. Arterial blood sprayed every which way, even into Wolverine's own face…

At least, that was what Logan imagined had happened, just for fun.

What really happened was that Logan let his claws hover, free to move, but unmoving. Magneto never flinched or even looked at those furious blades. Centimeters from his cheek, Magneto seemed as uncaring as if they had been a hundred yards away.

Logan let his claws inch a little closer, press against the face of his enemy, and he drew tiny drops of red blood. Not for a millisecond did Magneto try to hold him back. Logan pulled away.

"You would've let me kill you?"

"Well, according to just about everyone, I'm already dead."

Logan retracted his claws. "You must have one hell of a story."

"I must," Magneto replied. "And I was hoping you could help me fill in some of the blanks."

Fifty years ago, Logan would never have dreamt of having a nice little chat with Magneto, the man who had been his greatest enemy in another life. Never imagined that Magneto could actually be in need of anyone's help, let alone his. Nothing about this was right; everything was convoluted. Magneto couldn't be here—shouldn't be here…and yet, there he was, tied to a chair in a room filled with human refugees, who, if given the chance, would tear him to pieces if they thought it would change anything.

"Untie him," Logan ordered.

Vince stepped up to him. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. If he'd wanted to, he'd've killed you all by now. He's a metal worker."

Vince shrugged. "Ain't that much metal around the place."

Logan raised his eyebrow. "Hey, remember me? The guy with the metal skeleton?" he asked.

Vince nodded. "Oh right…keep forgetting."

Logan did not mention the fact that Magneto was powerful enough to manipulate any magnetic fields in the air and could use such power to flatten the camp in the blink of an eye. No metal worker had ever been as powerful as Magneto. He doubted any metal worker ever would. He also didn't figure on the men in the camp taking kindly to a mutant that was more powerful than himself, or one that had such acute control over his power.

When Magneto was free, he stood up and looked at the men around him, then at Logan. "Is there somewhere we can talk?" he asked.

Logan nodded once and turned. Magneto followed him out of the cabin.

The colony was stark and cold looking, a hodge-podge of cloth, rags, tarps and lumber. A chilling breeze came off of the nearby lake, constantly making roofs shudder, and tarp-enclosed doorways bend. All around there were people, women, men and children. They came in and out of tents and cabins, stood over fires. Some of them were washing clothes in pots of hot water, stirring the clothes around with long poles. Everyone's clothing seemed to be a mix of animal skins and patches of old clothes from times past. No one looked truly wild, though; everyone seemed to be trying to be a civilized as possible, the adults, at least, more so than the children.

The youngest of them ran and jumped about as if the world was their's to command. They slowly began to surround Magneto and Logan, tugging at Logan's sleeves, asking about the mysterious "bubble man." Some of them dared to come forward and push or poke Magneto, and then make a mad dash for the nearest hiding place. It became a game. Logan finally told them to quit it and led Magneto into his own tent. Once inside, he tied the tarp shut.

"These kids," he said, "they don't know anything about anything. Can't read or write. Parents are too busy trying to keep them alive to waste time educating them." He looked pointedly at Magneto.

"And it's all my fault," Magneto finished for him. "Well, they're not the only ones who seem to be at a lack of knowledge. The mutants who—well, I suppose you could say "resurrected" me…their knowledge of history had a few holes in it."

"Yeah, let's talk about that," Logan answered. "You say 'resurrected.' You serious?"

"It seems that at the time I was supposed to have died, I was actually captured and placed in a kind of cryogenic freeze. I do not know the reason for this, I only know that everyone who witnessed my supposed death remembers it clearly."

Logan's mind reeled. "Cryogenic freeze?" he repeated. "How?"

Magneto shrugged. "I have no idea. I woke up in a pool of icy-cold gelatin, with tubes in my nose and a pipe down my throat and about half a dozen people looking down at me that I had never seen before in my life. They told me that I had been frozen for fifty years, that there was some kind of civil war between mutants that been going on since I had died, and that I had been held captive in that state by a group called," he paused, looking pointedly at Logan, "the Brotherhood," he finished.

Logan looked up. "The Brotherhood? Those were your people."

"Yes, I remember that as well. Unfortunately not one of the mutants who had revived me had any recollection of what the Brotherhood was or that it had ever existed before. And yet they all know, even revere, me."

"That doesn't make sense."

"No. It does not."

Logan crossed his arms and sat down on his cot. It was too surreal…too incredible to be fact. But, Magneto was there, alive. That was true. So…his story could be true, as well. For all its absurdity, Magneto's story seemed like the only viable explanation. A thought occurred to him. "How did you know where to find me?"

Magneto looked somewhat embarrassed—embarrassed with dignity, if that were possible. "I was in a state of shock. I needed to know whether or not all of this was real. I asked the mutants around me whether there were any mutants left that I would know. One of the mutants, Tymah, who was among those that captured my frozen body, told me that she knew an old mutant named Pyro, and that he might be able to help me. I found him. After recalling the memory that he had of me dying in his arms, he told me where I might find you. Maybe you would know something. Clearly, you don't. And I am back at the beginning."

Logan laughed. He looked squarely at Magneto and laughed.

Without losing a step, Magneto replied, "It's hilarious. I know."

Still laughing, he said, "I lost everything…because of you. You and your Brotherhood. It started with Jean. Well, actually with Xavier—but he came back to life, too. Then he was killed again!" he thought his sides would bust. Magneto stared at him with something like fear coupled with concern. "And then," he said waving his hand back in a carefree gesture, "it was Storm and Rogue and Bobby. The ones that actually lived aged and died eventually." He sighed, the laughter draining out of him. "This colony is all I have left…and here you are. It's gonna start all over again, isn't it? Just like last time. You'll suck me into this world, make me fight for things I never knew I cared about, and then they'll all just disappear and somehow you'll survive!"

Magneto eyed him curiously. "Logan, we both fought. We both lost things. I've seen what that fighting has done to the world." He looked down. "What _I _have done to the world…," he added quietly. "I'm just an old man now, looking for answers." He smiled sadly. "Maybe there's a reason for all of this Logan. Maybe you and I have survived for a reason."

"Yeah, and what reason is that?"

Magneto looked up at him and Logan saw his age—all one-hundred and twenty-five years of it. The other man shrugged. "To save the world?"

* * *

A full day and night's travel had brought the three well away from the city and into upstate New York. The river had slightly narrowed, but the foliage had grown thicker; they clung to the coast for its protection and for its shade. They had taken turns all night, one sleeping, one steering, one watching. Tymah was still sleeping. Daytripper kept a close watch on the sky, the forest and the water, but so far, no one and nothing had come for them. It was at once a welcome circumstance and a suspicious one.

"Maybe she thought we were dead," Spit suggested.

Daytripper looked to him. "You'd think she might want to make sure of that, though, you know?"

Spit shrugged and looked beyond the prow of their little boat.

"Thank you for all of this," Tripper said for the thousandth time.

Spit laughed. "You don't have to keep thanking me," he said cheerfully. And just as easily, he grew grim. "You know, I've spent my whole life killing Animalis…and I'm talking since day one of me getting my powers. Thinking that might have been all for nothing, and that what I'm doing now might mean something—I should be thanking you," he finished quietly.

It had taken several times to convince Spit of their story. And they had told him absolutely everything, giving him chance enough to get out of going with them, and dropping him off somewhere along the way. He believed them, at last, and had decided to go with them wherever—and that had been asking a lot.

After a fierce argument with Tymah, Daytripper had decided that the best and safest place for them to go would be the human colony on the Canadian border. He knew exactly where it was. If he had had his powers, they could have gone their in a moment. As a teleporter, he somehow had an innate sense of where everything was—and even without his powers, that same sense of direction lingered. It was like having a map of the whole world constantly at his disposal. Without his powers, it was not as a clear, but it was still useful. He knew, for instance, that the Hudson followed a path into the Adirondack Mountains and from there they could walk to the human colony. Both Tymah and Spit had thought that the idea was insane, but Daytripper had finally convinced them that it would most likely be alright. Spit looked human, Tripper and Tymah were human. If anything went wrong, Spit still had his powers.

"Is there a reason you're called Spit?" Daytripper asked the young man.

Spit smiled. "Short for Spitfire. The nickname just kind of evolved."

Daytripper nodded. "I like it," he said.

"It's alright," he shrugged, smiling to himself. He looked over at the sleeping Tymah. "I've known her my whole life…since I was a kid. We trained together and fought. She saved my life once. In our first battle, this clawed mutant jumped on my back. He gave me these scars, see?" Spit pulled back the shoulder of his shirt. Four finger length claw mark scars stretched down past his shoulder blade. There were identical marks on his opposite shoulder. "Anyway, Tymah pushed this huge gust of wind towards the Animalis and knocked him off my back." Spit's eyes defocused as he added, "Then I killed him."

Daytripper looked closely at him and said, "We were all born into this war. Until now, we didn't know that there might be an alternative."

"I still hate them," Spit said suddenly, "what does that make me?"

"It just…makes you _you_," he answered. Spit looked away.

The boat made its way casually along the river bank. The water sloshed peacefully against the sides as the motor hummed and sputtered. Daytripper could see in his head where they were on his "inner map." It would be hours before they were close to their destination. He wondered just then where Magneto might be. He was afraid for him. The man had been so long out of the world, violently thrust back into it and now he was alone. Had he gone back and found Fellswoop and the others? Was he still in the South District? There was no way to know.

As if Spit were reading his mind, he said quietly, "He's really back? Really?"

Daytripper nodded. "He really is."

Spit shook his head and whistled. "Ain't that something…" he muttered.

* * *

Himmel stared at the floor. "Dead?" he repeated.

Fathom linked her fingers together, nervously. "I don't know…she must be. She was there and then she was gone…her signature just disappeared from my mind. It was so powerful…like she was using all of her powers…and then…it just wasn't there."

Fathom watched Himmel pace, a slow, methodical gait. There was no expression in his face except for a slight concern, something like confusion. "A metal worker?" he asked Fathom.

"There was one with her. I could try to find him."

Late in the night, Himmel had come to Fathom's room. He had beckoned her with a brief, emphatic hand gesture and said, "Godspeed."

She had followed him reluctantly and he had led her into the room where they kept Godspeed. She was dead. She had been strangled. There were finger marks on her arms and on her throat. One person had held her down, the other had killed her. "Sky," Himmel had said. Fathom had not been sure if he had meant that Sky was the culprit, or that he wanted to know where Sky was. Either way, Fathom had known by his tone that he wanted Sky in his presence as soon as possible. She had stretched out her senses. Sky was nowhere in the facility.

Himmel had frowned. "Further," he ordered. Fathom went further. There she was, by the river. Her powers were enormous…pulling in energy from everywhere. Fathom had felt it tug at her core. She had gasped with strength of it.

And then it was gone…as if it had never been there at all.

Fathom assumed Sky had died. Regardless of how or why, Fathom was sure Sky was dead…the total absence of her presence confirmed it. It was not like someone who was difficult to find…it was like a hole in reality. Fathom felt that hole, a dent in her perception.

Now, Himmel was pacing. When Himmel paced it was as if one could see his mind working, churning, figuring things out. Fathom had always assumed that Himmel spoke so little because he thought so much, that his thoughts were so clear and rational, it was not necessary for him to go into litanies and great speeches. Suddenly, he stopped.

"Fathom," he said, "four days ago."

Fathom thought and it came to her. "Four days ago…I remember, I was looking for you. I ran into Sky. I had felt a powerful metal worker, class four, in the South District. Someone I had never felt before. Sky said she would tell you. She would take care of it. And I had also sensed Tymah…and a teleporter."

His eyes widened. Tymah's name had struck a cord with him, that much she could see. "The metal worker…the same as tonight's?" he asked.

"No," Fathom answered, "the one I felt tonight was class three."

Himmel shook his head. "Tymah…a class four…South District?" He began to pace again. Himmel was not a tall man and his powers were limited. He was a great man, though, or so Fathom had been told. He was nearly fifty years old, ancient, a survivor. He had seen countless battles and had worked his way through the ranks despite his lacking powers. It was said of him that he had a brain in his head, an eye for detail, a sense of timing and planning that was unique among the commanders. Sometimes Fathom thought she saw it, but he was just a class three, what right did he have to command? He looked up at her. "Spit?" he asked.

"I don't sense him anywhere," she said.

"Dead?"

"No," Fathom answered, "just not nearby."

He put his hand under his chin. A long scar lined the left side of his face, down beyond his jaw line and beneath the collar of his shirt. He touched that scar now, thoughtfully. "All connected," he murmured. "Spit, Sky, Tymah, Godspeed…" Suddenly, his eyes flashed. "Follow me," he said.

* * *

Velocity stood near Fellswoop. He shifted from foot to foot.

"Dead?" Fellswoop repeated. "She's dead?"

Velocity nodded. "It's rumored that Sky is also dead. Can I ask what's going on?"

Fellswoop looked at the other mutant. "You can ask," he said flippantly.

Back at headquarters, Fellswoop had been waiting for news…any news. It had been nearly a week and Magneto, Daytripper and Tymah and all disappeared. Velocity had brought word that Godspeed was dead. It was all falling apart. Almost without realizing it, Fellswoop put his face despairingly in his hands.

"Fellswoop," said Creature, "it is only the same."

"The same?" he asked. "The same what?"

"Where we were before," Creature responded, "we are again."

Fellswoop nodded. He was right. If he erased the events of the past three weeks, most especially this past week, Fellswoop and the Animalis were in almost the exact same situation as they had always been. At war with the Elemental mutants—the only difference being that their principle enemy, Godspeed, was dead. In all respects, they were actually better off than they had been three weeks ago.

But that was not the point, was it? No. Fellswoop had, for a moment, been introduced and open to the possibility of there being no more war with the Elementals, that perhaps the resurrection of Magneto could bring peace in his time. It had been a foolish whim, but one that he had clung to more desperately than he had previously realized. It had become more to him than just a simple dream—it had manifested itself as a possibility.

He had seen Magneto with his own eyes. Touched him with his own talons. Breathed the same air as that mutant who was the father of mutants. For the first time in his life, he had imagined a world without conflict. He had tried to hide it away, bury the hope, strangle the dream, but there it had been—and now…

And now?

Now was the same as it had always been. Nothing had changed. "Centaur was right, Creature. Peace is a fool's dream…and I was a fool to dream it…"

Creature walked towards him and touched his arm. "You never closed your eyes, Fellswoop," he said, "and the night is not yet over."

Fellswoop sighed. "No…I think the night is just beginning."

_

* * *

You can hear me._

Yes.

_And see me?_

No.

_You must find me._

Where are you?

_Trapped. Trapped. Save me!_

How can I save you if I don't know where you are?

_Oh! _

What is it?

_It's dying! It can't hold me! I'm killing it!_

What?!

A scream…a piercing, wrenching, wretched scream pierced through the entire camp. When he heard it, he thought it was still part of the dream.

Then he heard it again.

"OH GOD! GOD! MY BABY!"

Magneto tumbled out of his sleeping bag. Lights and lanterns flashed and moved outside. He could see them through the tarps. People rushed out of their tents to find the source of the scream. It continued unceasingly. A woman screaming, relentless.

Magneto followed a group of men, whose wives watched them from inside the tarps and tents. The screaming grew louder until finally they had reached its source. A woman stood at the opening of her tent, clutching a young girl. The girl was lifeless and limp. Blood spilled out of her ears, her nose, her mouth…even out of her eyes, like thick, red tears. It was ghastly. Her fingertips were red with what seemed to be burst capillaries and her forehead had a large, swelling bump on it, as if something were trying to push its way out from inside her skull.

The woman herself, deranged and incomprehensible, was covered in blood. She could not, or would not, explain was had happened to her daughter. She was senseless and knew only her own grief and nothing else. Magneto left the scene just as they had convinced her to let go of the body and give it to them.

The dream had been only one of sound. He had seen nothing. And it had not felt like a dream. It had felt, and still felt, as if it had been a conversation with someone living. It did not, as most real-seeming dreams do, become less real as one wakes up. It was more like a faded memory of something that had actually happened. He could not remember what the voice had said exactly, but somehow he felt it had something to do with what he had just seen, that there was some connection between them. He wracked his brain for the full context of the conversation, but all he could remember was, "_Trapped, trapped, save me."_

"Save you from what?" he found himself asking aloud.

A man suddenly grabbed his shoulder. He looked into Magneto's eyes, but the man's eyes were cold, lifeless and nearly all white. He held onto his shoulder with bone breaking strength. "Nothing…nothing can hold me," he said in a scraping voice that did not seem to belong to him. "Help me."

While still maintaining a strong grip on his shoulder, the man collapsed, taking Magneto with him. He began to shudder and writhe and then stopped moving altogether.

"Help!" Magneto cried. "This man needs help!"

The man lay quiet and wide-eyed at Magneto's side. As Magneto watched, his eyes cleared, turning blue, and two red blood drops dripped out of the corners. "Help me," he whispered in his own voice.


	9. Chapter 9: The Colony

**Chapter 9: The Colony**

"What the hell happened?"

Magneto sighed and explained for the tenth time what he had seen and heard. "I went to see what had happened. I saw the little girl. As I was walking back to my tent, that man grabbed my shoulder, then he fainted and blood came out of his mouth and nose and eyes, just like the girl."

Vince stared at him. "Tell us again, what he said."

"He said that nothing could hold him and then he said, 'Help me.' That's all."

The man in question was lying inside his own tent on a cot. His wife, presumably, and his small children were sitting near him. He was not dead, but he had not moved or closed his eyes since he had first fallen down. The bleeding had stopped, but he still had red stains on his face and hands. After initially moving him into this tent, everyone seemed reluctant to touch him.

Logan stepped forward. "Is it some kind of virus?"

One of the men Magneto did not know spoke. "I've never seen anything like this."

"When he first spoke to me, it was as if he was not speaking in his own voice, as if he were in a trance. Then, he fell and seemed to be aware of himself again," Magneto said.

"This all started when he got here!" Greg said suddenly to Logan, pointing to Magneto. Magneto looked over at Logan, to see what his reaction would be. Logan looked at him.

"They're right, you know," he said. He turned to Greg, "But he's a metal worker, not a mind controller. Even if he's the reason this happened, he didn't do it."

"If he's the reason, he should leave." A murmuring began, assenting to what Greg had said.

"No," Logan said. "He stays."

Greg glared. "I say he goes. How many more people are gonna bleed out of their eyeballs before you agree with us?"

"With us?" Logan sneered. "Who's us?" He turned, slightly flashing his still white teeth, to face the rest of the people who had gathered in the tent and outside of it. There were no more murmurs of agreement. There was only silence.

Greg appeared unnerved by this, crossing his arms protectively in front of himself.

"There is no us," Logan growled. "There's me and there's you. You've trusted me all these years to protect you, protect your children. Trust me now." He pointed to Magneto. "If he becomes a problem, I'll deal with him. For now, he stays, or we both go and you're on your own."

The crowd shuffled uncomfortably, but not one of them raised his voice to oppose the Wolverine. Gradually, they began to depart until no one was left in the tent but Magneto, Logan, and the man on the bed.

"If I become a problem, you won't be able to deal with me, Wolverine," Magneto said quietly.

"I've gotten the better of you before."

"Not without help."

Logan looked coldly at him. "I've got help," he said ambivalently.

Magneto sat down in a chair opposite the man on the cot. "Do you know his name?"

"Patrick," he answered.

"Do you know all their names?"

Logan didn't answer. He checked the comatose Patrick's pulse and then said, "Is it possible you're being followed or tracked by a telepath?"

"Before I left the city, I was confronted by two mutants, a weather mutant called Sky and another metal worker."

"You've got Sky after you? Commander Sky of the Elemental forces?"

"Yes. Do you know her?"

"Heard of her. She's some kind of big shot."

Magneto frowned. "I was with two others, who were helping me. A girl named Tymah and a teleported called Daytripper."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Daytripper?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "Who else did you meet?"

"When I was awoken, I met several Animalis mutants, Fellswoop...another called Creature."

"Jesus, you've met all the big wigs. You meet Godspeed too?"

Magneto shook his head. "No, but she was supposed to have been there, when they revived me."

"Jesus," he said again.

"They seem to think that I am the answer to peace in their time, a means to end the mutant wars."

Logan laughed. "Do they know your track record?"

Magneto smiled wryly.

"Well, I guess it's only fair. You did start them, after all."

"I started the war against humanity, this intermutant conflict is inexplicable to me."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then he said, "It's ironic, isn't it? You spent your life fighting to destroy humanity, and then sixty years later you had to find what was left of it in order to save your own life."

Magneto narrowed his eyes. "I was looking for you. If you had been in the Amazon defending the rain forest, I would have gone there."

"I thought about that," Logan mused, "not much for company, though, trees. Plus, I'm not a fan of bugs."

Then, there was a gasp and a cough and a sudden scream, and Patrick was awake.

* * *

The forest blazed a bright orange-green in the midst of the sunset. Tymah, Spitfire and Daytripper walked along in silence, leaves crunching gently underfoot, and the occasional twig snapping. There were a plethora of birds and bugs here that Tymah had never seen before and she realized, then, that she was, for the first time in her life, not in a city. Here, in these woods, these ongoing, never ending woods, the closest thing to rubble she could see was the occasional felled tree. And even they were beautiful. A fallen tree was more like an art sculpture, while a smashed building always looked like trash, no matter what angle you looked at it from. A pile of debris was a pile of debris, but here, in the forest, a pile of leaves and twigs was peaceful to behold. A hollowed out stump was much more poetic than a blown out building, with its windows in pieces on the sidewalk.

"Tymah? You ok?"

She had stopped walking without even realizing it. Spit had his hand on her shoulder, and she looked at him in surprise. "Sorry. I was just…can we just stay here?" she asked stupidly.

"If you want to," he replied, and for a moment, he seemed serious.

"Hey guys," Daytripper called ahead of them, "we can settle here for tonight." Tymah and Spit caught up with him. Their hotel for that night was much like their last, a pile of rocks, with extended ledges to keep out any possible rain. Spit started the fire. They ate what they had brought with them and drank water from their canteens.

Spit fell asleep first, wrapped tightly in his blanket, near the fire. Tymah edged closer to the flame. "Is it just me, or is it getting colder, the farther we walk?"

Daytripper smiled. "It's just gonna get colder. The farther north we go, the colder it gets."

"Can we go south?"

"We could, but we'll never get to the human colony if we do…" he answered, smiling still.

Tymah fell silent. Any mention of the human colony made her stomach churn. It was worse, infinitely worse, than dealing with Animalis. She had felt like a traitor then. Now, she felt like she was betraying not just her own species of mutant, but every mutant on the planet, every mutant that had ever walked the earth, from Magneto to Godspeed to Fellswoop.

"It won't be so bad, Tym," Daytripper said for the millionth time, "honestly. They're just humans…it's not like I'm leading us into a pit of poisonous snakes, or something."

"You might as well be," she said. "Why can't we just hide out here, until our powers come back?"

"Because eventually we're going to run out of food and supplies. Come on, I promise it'll be ok."

Tymah looked at him, and saw the kindness in his eyes, the same kindness and understanding she had seen that first night when Magneto had returned. She had been so frightened then, and he had known it. "I'm scared, Tripper," she said. "I'm really scared."

His expression changed. "Tymah, you're shivering."

"Yeah, I told you, I'm cold," she said.

Daytripper moved next to her, put his arm around her and a blanket around them both. "You trust me, right?"

Tymah nodded, feeling strange but safe with his arm around her.

"Then, trust me when I tell you that it'll be ok."

"I'm really trying," she said.

"Ok," he said. He lay down and she lay down beside him. "Let's get some sleep." He wrapped the blanket tight around them both, but did not put his arm around her again. It was odd, but she found herself wishing that he would.

* * *

"Patrick! Hey! Hey! It's alright, it's me, it's Logan!"

Wild-eyed, Patrick searched for the source of the voice. His eyes roved around the tent and finally focused on the Wolverine. "Shit…" he whispered hoarsely. "Logan…Logan…" He reached out and grabbed Logan's arm with a shaking hand.

"Yeah," Logan responded kindly, "yeah, Pat, it's me."

Patrick's eyes defocused and focused again. "Meredith…?"

"She's fine. She's with the kids. Do you know what happened? Do you remember?"

"Logan!" he cried frantically. "She's knows you!"

Logan frowned. "Of course Meredith knows me."

Patrick's mouth opened and closed. He shook his head furiously. Then he saw Magneto. "Him! She knows him!"

Logan turned to look at Magneto, and then turned back to the man on the bed. "No, she doesn't know him. Meredith couldn't know him. What are you talking about, Pat?"

Patrick looked like a child lost in the woods. He wanted to speak, but could not find the words. He was desperate to explain, but was incapable. His eyes kept leaping between Magneto and Logan and as they did, his mouth opened, as if about to speak, and then closed again, confused. Finally, his eyes rolled back into his head and he burst out with, "Magneto…!" The rest was unintelligible.

Magneto rushed to him and leaned over the bed. "Do you know me?" he asked. "Do you know me?"

Patrick's eyes were dead. They focused on nothing. "No," he answered dully, "but she does…"

"Who?" Magneto begged.

Patrick's head dropped to the side and a stream of blood came pouring out of his nose and mouth, quickly saturating the pillow.

"No!" Wolverine cried. "Patrick!" he shook him, "Patrick!," but Patrick's body was like a doll in his hands—lifeless and floppy. "Shit!" Wolverine growled. He swerved around, his claws flashing, ready to lunge at Magneto.

Instinctively, Magneto held him back. "Stop!" he yelled at him, his eyes shifting between Wolverine and the hideous visage of the corpse. "This is not my doing!"

"He said 'Magneto,' you son of a bitch!" Logan screamed. "You develop some new powers while you were in deep freeze?"

Magneto continued to hold him. "No!"

Logan snarled like an animal. "What did you do to him? What did you do to Nina?"

"Nina?"

"The little girl!"

"I did nothing! _She_ did it!" Magneto said.

"Who's she?"

"That's what we need to find out." He raised his hand. "I could crush you, Wolverine. Right now. No amount of healing powers could repair the damage I could do to you! _That_ is my power! Not…" he nodded mournfully towards the bloody Patrick, "not this…"

"Patrick?" said a small voice from behind them. "Patrick!" The woman whom Magneto assumed was Meredith, rushed to the side of her husband's bed, calling his name. She touched him, and then she saw his eyes. "Oh!" she cried. "Oh no…no!" She clapped her hands over her mouth, and two tears, one from each eye, dripped down over her long, white fingers. Magneto released his hold on Logan and with out a second look at him, Logan moved towards Meredith.

She put up her hand, indicating for him to stop. He remained where he was and said nothing. Magneto watched as the small, slightly built woman, stopped up her tears and stood up straight. She gather a handful of the sheets, and mechanically approached her dead husband.

Slowly, she stretched out the hand with the sheet grasped tightly in it, and after what seemed like an eternity, she began to mop the blood away from his face. As she did, her body relaxed, and the tears flowed freely, but silently.

"Meredith…" Logan started to say.

"Shh...," Meredith whispered, as she closed Patrick's eyes with her other hand, "I can't let the children see their daddy like this. Please, let me do this by myself."

Logan nodded, and Magneto followed him out of the tent. Several men approached them immediately. "He's dead," Logan said.

"Did he say anything? Did he wake up?"

Logan's eyes flitted briefly towards Magneto, but only for a split second. "No," he answered.

"What are we gonna do?"

"We're gonna let me figure it out," Logan answered gruffly, pushing past the men and walking away from the crowds.

"Should I thank you, or are you just going to kill me in my sleep?" asked Magneto, when they were far enough away from the people.

"Don't thank me. Get your stuff and get out of my camp."

"Logan, whatever is happening here, it is happening to us both!"

Logan walked on. "It didn't start till you got here, I know that much."

"Yes! And why is that? Why am I here?"

He stopped abruptly and turned in a slow, menacing way. "That's what this is all about? You think you were put here for a reason? I'll tell you something!" his voice raised, "There are no reasons! No purpose! You're here and I'm here! That's it! That's all!"

"No, Logan. That's not all. Memories erased, people remembering things that never happened, forgetting things that did! Our race pitted against itself!"

"I don't care!" he screamed back. "It's got nothing to do with me and my people!"

"_These are not your people, Wolverine_!"

Magneto's final words hung like a stuck pendulum, ceasing to swing, heavy like lead with finality and truth. He would never know what they would have lead up to, for at that moment, he saw someone walking towards them, someone he recognized.

"Tymah…" he said aloud.

"What?" Wolverine growled. He turned and saw her, too. Close behind her was Daytripper, followed by a young man Magneto did not know.

Logan's face revealed surprise. "Trip!" he called. "What the hell?"

"Hey, Logan," Daytripper said back.

"You don't usually take the long way here," said Logan.

Tripper smiled. "Yeah. It's a long story—," he stopped when he recognized—"Magneto!" He fell to one knee, looking up at him. "How did you—"

Tymah was smiling with relief. "We thought…we were afraid…" she smiled again, speechless.

Logan's face tensed. "Get up, Trip. He's not Jesus Christ!"

Daytripper looked at him in surprise. "Logan, this is Magneto!" he said incredulously.

"I know who he is, and if you want him to stay alive, start calling him Eric. The name Magneto doesn't exactly strike a pleasant cord around here."

Daytripper looked to Magneto, who nodded and said, "It's alright. Use my human name."

Tripper got up and Logan stared at all of them as if reviewing a bad play. "You are loving this, aren't you?" he said to Magneto coolly, "you son of a bitch."

"Logan!" Tripper hissed

"Shut up," ordered Logan. "On second thought, tell me who the hell you're bringing into my camp."

Daytripper looked shamefacedly at the rest of his entourage, clearly uneasy about being told what to do in such a gruff manner, and yet also seeming to be quite used to such behavior. "Tymah and I were Cured—by Elemental soldiers. Spit helped us escape. He's a fire a mutant."

"Spit?"

"Um…it's short for Spitfire," said Spit quietly.

Logan snorted. "Cute."

* * *

Tymah stared at the man Tripper had called Logan. He was a disgruntled, rough looking mutant, with scraggily, unkempt black hair, and a beard. He did not look a day over thirty five, but he carried himself with the self-assurance of a man who had been around much longer. His attitude towards Magneto disturbed her, as if he somehow knew Magneto better than they did, which was clearly impossible, as Magneto had allegedly died many years before this mutant was born.

It further intrigued her that Daytripper knew this man quite well, calling him by his name. She wondered how they knew each other and why this gruff looking mutant had taken to a human colony for refuge, instead of a mutant one. She had too many questions, so she said nothing.

Instead, she hung to the back with Spit, after their initial introduction to Logan. "That's the guy they call the Wolverine. He's been protecting this human colony for as long as anyone can remember," said Spit confidentially.

Tymah frowned. "He's a young man," she said.

"No, he's not. He's got healing powers. He could be as old as Magneto."

Tymah stared at this "Wolverine" with a new sense wonder and awe. She had heard of mutants with regenerative powers, but had never seen one. For all his gruffness and feral appearance, an appearance which suggested a violent, animal nature, the Wolverine had neither scratch nor scar, barely a crease on his brow.

Magneto approached them. "I'm so glad you're alright. I'm sorry I left you back there."

She shook her head. "You had to. And we're glad you're alright. How did you know to come here, sir?" she asked.

Magneto looked over at Logan, who was talking to Daytripper in an angry whisper, gesturing furiously toward Magneto, but not looking at him. "I know that mutant. I came to speak to him. Pyro told me where he was. It's pure coincidence that you are also here."

"He doesn't seem to like you much," Spit commented.

Magneto half-smiled. "I shouldn't think so. He was my enemy once upon a time. An X-Man. A group of mutants who took it upon themselves to defend humanity."

"I've never heard of them, sir," Tymah said.

"No…and that troubles me greatly. It's part of the reason I came here. Some of your history seems to have been unaccountably erased. I thought he might have some answers."

"Does he?"

Magneto did not answer. "There have been some incidents in this camp since my arrival and I'm afraid he wants me to leave it."

"What kind of incidents?" Tymah asked.

"Two deaths, strange and identical, but unrelated."

Tymah shivered. She wished she had her powers, she was so empty and fearful without them. She could see humans in the distance, clad in tattered cloth and animal skins. Her insides burned with the hatred she had been born with, but she said nothing. At the moment, much as she shuddered to think it, she was also human. It made her sick.

Persuaded by Daytripper, Logan reluctantly decided that Magneto should remain in the colony. Bitter as he may have been, Logan could not deny his curiosity at Magneto's sudden, and inexplicable resurrection. Likewise, it became more obvious that he did not believe Magneto had caused the deaths of the two humans, any more than Tymah did, and he wanted to know what had. Though not the cause, he believed Magneto to be the link. It was the only thing that made sense.

As they walked further into the colony, curious, prying eyes followed their every movement, and Tymah made sure to keep her eyes to the ground. If ever she looked up, it was to once again come face to face with the reality that she had become human, and was now forced into the company of humans for her own protection. She continued in this manner, when suddenly she saw a pair of bare feet come running into their little group. A young woman's voice cried, "Trip! Trip!"

Tymah looked up and saw a girl with long brown hair and pretty green eyes throwing herself onto Daytripper. Instinctively, Tymah moved to defend Tripper from the attacker, when she saw that he had embraced her, was holding her close and saying her name, "Janet!" And then, he kissed her on her lips, twice, three times, spinning her around in a happy twirl.

"I missed you!" Janet cried. "You were gone for so long this time!"

He pushed back her hair lovingly and apologized. "I missed you, too." He kissed her again, oblivious to anyone or anything other than the human female in front of him.

Tymah stepped back, a sick, twisting feeling in her stomach. Her legs felt like wavering blades of grass, she nearly fell. Disgusted, nauseated and betrayed—she spun around, tripping over her own feet, as she ran, pell-mell in absolutely no direction at all. She thought she heard someone call her name, but all she wanted to do was get away, get away, get away!


	10. Chapter 10: Himmel

**Chapter 10: Himmel**

_"You are a god among insects..."_

_--Magneto_

Something wrong. Something different. He took long, pacing strides, back and forth along the dimly lit tunnel. Fathom watched him with increasing impatience, but he did not care. He ran his fingers along the rough wall, _hmm-ing _to himself.

"Something different…" he turned and started again.

Fathom shifted to her other leg. "You want a light or something?" she asked.

He merely shook his head. "Something wrong…" he murmured.

And there it was. A small, uniform dent in the wall. He had been stroking, back and forth, along the wall, feeling how filthy it was in most places, and then, suddenly, how inexplicably clean it was in one particular spot in the center, a space that stretched as wide as a door. Now, along that cleaner piece of wall, he fingered that tiny, round dent. As if on cue, the door slid open, revealing a long, even cleaner, steel hallway. He step into it, and the click of his boots echoed down the stark, yet oddly beautiful passage. Fathom approached from behind him, her eyes wide and her mouth wider.

"What is this?" she asked at last.

Himmel shook his head. He had recalled earlier what young Spit, the fire mutant, had said to him, several days ago, about Commander Sky. During the battle, he had said, Sky was nowhere to be found, but had appeared at last from one of the deeper subway tunnels, late for the outset of the battle. Spit had told him that he had had no confidence in Sky as a commander. Himmel had stored away that information, but had not forgotten it. When Fathom informed him that she had sensed Tymah with a class four metal worker in the South District, he had been puzzled. When she had further informed him that Commander Sky had been informed of it first and had said she would tell Himmel the news, and had not done so, his suspicions had increased.

Himmel had been raised nearly to the level of a Full Commander. He had not, and would never be officially raised to such a level, because of his class ranking. As a class three, Himmel was looked down upon by other, more capable and powerful class fours. By all logic, Commander Sky ought to have been offered the official position. But she had not been. Clearly, class wasn't everything. Sky was unpredictable, with a tendency towards emotional; Himmel was none of those things. He was clear thinking and cold. He knew himself to be such and was glad of it.

He brought himself back to the tunnel and looked at Fathom. "Sense," he ordered.

She closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate. Her eyes flashed open almost immediately. "Fire mutant, class three. Metal worker, class three. The same one that was with Sky!" she declared excitedly. "A telekinetic, class three. Teleporter, class three. Sensor, class—" Fathom stopped suddenly. "She senses me! She knows you're here! They're all disappearing!" she cried. "The teleporter is taking them all away!"

Even as she was speaking, Himmel was racing down the passage way. He turned a corner and entered a room just in time to see the last of them disappear. He did not call out or try to stop them; it was enough for them to know that _he_ knew. Fathom appeared breathless beside him. "They're gone!" she said.

He looked calmly at her. "Obviously." Fathom blushed. Himmel stood thoughtfully for a moment. "The council," he decided, turned and was followed by the Sensor.

* * *

At some point, she became lost. Inexperienced as she was with the nature of heavily wooded areas, it probably had not taken long. She noticed the silence first, the absence of the voice of whoever had been calling her name as she had fled. Now, there was all silence. Tymah stopped running and fell to her knees, weeping shamelessly and taking in quick, gasping breaths as she did so. 

She was not even sure why she was crying. Perhaps, like a fool, she had assumed that Daytripper had liked her, had maybe even loved her. The void inside her where her power had been robbed from her had been filled, temporarily, with the solace that Tripper had been going through the same thing, that they were sharing equally the horrifying reality of having been Cured. He had been an inexpressible comfort to her, with his kind words and comforting arms. Now, she felt as though that hollow abyss within her would swallow her whole, from the outside in, that she would just disappear into herself and never be seen again—and in a way, she wished, at the moment, that it were possible to do so.

But it was not.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself, digging her sharp nails into her flesh. She was glad she was lost. Let the forest swallow her, if the mournful emptiness inside her could not.

When the self-loathing stopped, anger took its place. The moment she ceased to dwell on how stupid she had been, she began to focus on how deceitful Daytripper was. Revulsion swelled in her and filled the void.

A human.

Think of it! A human female…for a companion. It was too loathsome to contemplate, and yet, she had witnessed just such an abomination. And he, just embracing her, and kissing her, as if there were nothing the matter with it! Smiling and twirling her about—his human lover! He would do better to mate with a monkey!

With equal derision, she called to mind that she, too, was human. But, it was only temporary. Her condition was like a disease. It would heal itself in time, and then she would be herself again. They called it the Cure because it was an ironic name, not a cure at all, but an affliction to be dealt with, not accepted. Humanity was not a creature, it was an illness!

Tymah lay back on the dry leaves and stared up at the sky through the treetops. There was something exciting about having been cured, however. Guiltily, she recalled having heard someone say that once the Cure wore off, a mutant's powers increased, sometimes twice as strong. She was not sure if that were true. It was said that Magneto had been Cured once, and that when his powers returned, he had been nearly indestructible. But, of course, he had died.

She sat up. But, of course, she knew now that he had _not_ died. He truly had been indestructible. He himself was living proof of that.

With a pang, she thought of how shocking it had been when she had fully realized that the grey-eyed man that had come out of the pod had actually been the real Magneto; and how comforting Daytripper had been to her at that most crucial moment, when her entire world had come crashing down around her. But with that pang came that nauseating sense of disgust. It almost obliterated her pain.

At least she had good reason to hate him now, not just her own selfish motives. It gave her strength.

But what kind of strength was that which was built upon hatred? Strong, to be sure, but not everlasting.

Oh she could not think about that now! She could not think about anything at all!

_Tymah?_

Her eyes flashed open. The sky was a different hue. Had she fallen asleep? She sat up. There were leaves across her body, as if she had lain there for some time, unmoving. She _had_ slept.

Had someone said her name?

The wisps of a dream passed over her mind's eye, fleeting and confusing. Had she dreamt of a baby crying, or had she been crying while having a baby? Or had she and a baby been crying in entirely different circumstances? She tried to hold onto images of blurring people and places, but it was no use. The dream, and all its peculiarities, disappeared, the harder she tried to make them stay.

"TYMAH!"

This voice, unlike the one in her dream, spoke aloud and with force. And with the sound of it came running feet, crushing leaves along its path.

"Tymah!" Spit gasped, sliding to his knees beside her. "Where the hell—I've been looking for you for hours! It's gonna be dark soon!" He was not angry, he was startled, frustrated and worried. But all that kindness, somehow, made her furious. She forgot the dream, pushing herself up off the ground away from him.

"I've been here!" she spat. "Right here. What do you want?"

Spit's apparent relief at finding her was stifled by her cold response. "I was just…" he faltered. "Looking for you…" he finished weakly, but his face hardened as he got up. "But if you'd rather stay here lost in the dark, I'll go!" He moved to do just that and Tymah was suddenly remorseful. She put her face in her hands.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Then the tears came.

He approached her tentatively. "Let's go," he said. "Let's get out of here. I still have my powers. I'll protect you till yours come back. We don't have to stay here!"

"Where will we go?"

"Anywhere," he replied. "We can stay in the forest, like you wanted to."

At that, she laughed. "Oh yeah, two mutants from the city are going to survive out here."

"We could try," said Spit with sincerity.

Tymah looked up at him and felt like she had never seen him before in her life. He stood staring at her with concern and some fear, should she have another outburst. He was serious and she knew it, but… "We can't do that," she shook her head. She felt weak, suddenly, and realized that it had been some time since she had eaten anything. She sat back on the ground. Spitfire sat beside her.

They were quiet for some time. The sun dipped behind the level of the trees, but still provided some light. It was eerie out here, and cold. She breathed a deep sigh and saw her breath in a white mist.

Spit shifted beside her, looking at her intensely. "It's ok, you know," he said at last. "It's ok that you liked that guy. It's ok."

"And why is that?" she asked, her voice icy with sarcasm.

Spit remained serious. "He saved your life, you saved his…"he shrugged, "it's bound to bring people together in a different way than…than usual person to person encounters, you know? Well…it makes sense to me, is what I mean."

"I guess," she replied, feeling heavy.

"He wanted to come with me. To look for you…I told him it wasn't a good idea."

She bit the inside of her cheek. "If I had my powers…I would level this camp. And everyone in it…everyone."

"I could set it on fire, if you want. But…I'd want to get Magneto out first."

Magneto…Magneto… "Godspeed…" she murmured. And it hit her. Now was not the time for personal vendettas. Now was the time to do what she had promised Godspeed. Carry out Godspeed's plan for peace…a plan she had entrusted to Tymah and Tymah alone, out of all the Elementals in whom she could have put her trust.

"What about Godspeed?" Spit asked gently.

"Let's go back to the camp," she said, suddenly decisive.

"You sure?"

She nodded, standing. He did likewise. When he had stood up, he let his hand erupt into flame, which would have been a frightening spectacle to anyone who did not know a firemutant personally. He held up his hand like a torch. It brightened their fast dimming path. His other hand courageously took Tymah's and together they walked back to the camp.

* * *

The Elemental Mutant Council is made up of mutants above the age of twenty years from each class four elemental category. There are not many class four Elemental mutants (and even fewer above the age of twenty); there are mostly mutants with variations of class four powers. For example, a class four weatherworker can control almost all elements of the weather: wind, rain, thunder, lighting, etc. A lesser class weatherworker can control only a few or just one of these elements. A class four firemutant can control and create fire, as well as manipulate the smoke and ash created by flame. A lesser class mutant can control fire, but not create it, or worse…can create it, and not control it, or some such other limited variation. When there is more than one class four Elemental of a certain power, above the age of twenty, the Council will vote among its already existing members on who should serve on the Council. 

Therefore, the Council is made up of these class four mutants: Hellfire, a firemutant; Thorn, a woodworker; Volt, an electric mutant, who can also manipulate sound waves and create lasers; Tremor, an earth mutant; Oceanica, a water mutant. There has not been a class four metal worker since the time of Magneto, and since Godspeed is dead, there has not been time to replace the weatherworker on the Council, nor is there another class four weatherworker of age within their immediate knowledge.

Himmel stood, undaunted, unintimidated (he was never intimidated) before this august body, having relayed his discovery as succinctly as was mutantly possible. For a moment, the Council merely looked at him, then, just as quickly, erupted into a flurry of discussion, mixed with questions, directly and indirectly, for Himmel. Fathom stood, looking out of place, behind him, close to the door, so as to escape both notice, and the room, if necessary.

"Where is Commander Sky?" Hellfire asked.

"Dead," Himmel said, without any further explanation.

Hellfire clearly expected some. "Dead? We were not informed."

Himmel looked over at Fathom, who could explain it best. She shook her head furiously, but Himmel insisted with a cold, urging stare. She stepped forward, timidly. "I don't know how she died, but she is dead," Fathom said quietly.

The Council looked on her with derision. They did not much care for Outsiders. In fact, Himmel wondered if an Animalis mutant would not be more welcome at this Council than an Outsider, for an Outsider was just that: _outside_ the normal parameters of mutantity. And Fathom was not just an Outsider, she was a class two, meriting both disdain and condescension.

Thorn raised an eyebrow. "And you are…Fathom, correct? A Sensor, class… two?"

Fathom nodded and Himmel bristled slightly when he saw how ashamed she was of her class. He, himself, was only a class three. Thorn continued, "You sense within a forty mile radius, correct?"

She nodded again.

"And how is it, then, Fathom," he went on in a weary drawl, "that you know _for a fact_ that Commander Sky is dead?"

Fathom began nervously at first, but seemed to gather strength the more she spoke. "I was tracking her. I sensed her outside the compound, with another mutant, a class three metal worker. I was tracking her because I was curious about where she could be going and then, suddenly, her powers increased to a huge degree, as if she was battling, and just as suddenly, she disappeared."

"Disappeared? Out of your range?"

Fathom shook her head. "No, still in my range, just not there. Dead."

Several of the mutants on the Council gave each other wry, skeptical glances. Seeing that, Fathom rallied herself further. "I don't expect _you_ to understand," she said, snidely, "but when a mutant dies, it's quite a different feeling from when a mutant simply steps out of range. It's quite a terrible feeling actually," she continued with morbid pride, "it's like holding onto to something that suddenly isn't there anymore and without it, you fall very far and very fast. I _know_ she is dead, whether you _believe_ it or not and if not, the disbelief only effects you, and not me. So, quite frankly, I couldn't care less."

Himmel looked at her, impressed in spite of himself. Her clarity of speech and thought surprised even him, but it only made the Council more indignant. "Well," Volt said coolly, "thank you for your…opinion, Fathom." He said nothing more, which, clearly, was her signal to leave. She looked at Himmel briefly, and then exited.

"The truth," Himmel said.

"That may be," said Thorn. He stared at Himmel. "Himmel, you handled the battle well. We were not pleased with Sky's performance. Godspeed's betrayal has also shocked us to our very core. To think we won the battle, despite these…_events_," he waved a hand in the air, dismissing what he did not like to dwell on, "is a testament to your abilities as a commander. We thank you."

Himmel nodded, but said nothing.

"Tell me, what are your feelings on the battle?"

"Too easy," Himmel replied immediately. "It was a diversion. I do not know for what."

Oceanica nodded. "We have come to the same conclusion," she said. "I will take the liberty of informing you that you are, in fact, exactly right in that regard. There was an isolated fight in a chamber deep below the tunnels during the battle, a chamber we did not know was there. We have examined the chamber…that is, what was left of it, and have concluded that it held something worth hiding. Can you guess what it could be?"

He shook his head.

"Nor can we," Oceanica admitted. "It was almost completely in ruin when we discovered it and we discovered it only because one of the Sensors sensed an Animalis mutant in that area. When we arrived, no one was there. We concluded, therefore, that the Chamber and the area around it had been protected by a sensor-shield, which was destroyed in the fight and that the Animalis must have had a teleporter in his employ, to have escaped so fast."

How many words had Oceanica used to explain so simple a situation? Himmel wondered briefly. She knew the facts. She should state them factually, and with confidence. She need not tell an epic. "Fathom sensed a teleporter with Tymah and a class four metal worker in the South District several days ago. Sky knew and did not tell me. Spitfire has also disappeared."

Tremor, who had said nothing up until this point, started suddenly. "A class four metal worker?"

"We know of no such metal worker," Thorn added.

Himmel shrugged. It was what it was.

Oceanica bit her lower lip. "This is odd."

"Very," Volt agreed.

Tremor, ironically, seemed to tremble. No one noticed but Himmel. "A class four metal worker," the earth mutant repeated, more to himself than to anyone else.

After a protracted silence, Hellfire spoke at last. "Tymah was with them? We were told she had died in the battle."

"As was I," Himmel said. "Fathom informed me otherwise."

"This is very odd," Oceanica said again. Volt nodded. Tremor looked concerned. After a protracted silence, Thorn looked toward Hellfire with a distinctive look, urging him to say something.

"Ah yes," Hellfire said, reminded of something by Thorn's look. "Himmel," he began, "we are very grateful to you for your service to us. In the absence of Commander Sky and Godspeed, we, the Council," he gestured to the body, "have decided to grant Tremor the position of Full Commander. We thank you again for all you have done."

Himmel froze. Could they thank him and demote him in the same breath? Were they so very grateful to his military genius that they deemed it no longer required? He opened his mouth to speak, attempted to twice and failed. Finally, all he managed to do was to repeat what Thorn had said to him only minutes ago, "I…handled the battle well…" he said, "The battle was won."

"Yes," Hellfire said with a smile. "We thank you."

"I handled the battle well," he repeated.

Tremor looked uncomfortable, but Thorn spoke before he could. "You did, and you will continue to serve as Commander, under Full Commander Tremor. You will continue to use those talents of yours for which we are so grateful."

A look from Thorn, that same look he had given Hellfire to remind him to put Himmel back in his place, told Himmel it was time for him to leave. It was all so hurried, so rushed—he was no longer needed; his services were no longer required; he would serve under another, as before.

But, oh, how _very_ grateful they were.

Without another word, Himmel turned on his heel and left the Council Room—that arena of elites; that power center of the most powerful—and not for the first time did he think it was time for a change.

Fathom intercepted him as he walked from the closed door, so much more than just a door; it was a wall between him and his capabilities, between his class and theirs. She fell in stride with him.

"They demoted you," she said.

He nodded.

"Why?"

He stopped. "You know why," he answered.

"Your class?"

He nodded.

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she said.

He shook his head. It was not her fault.

"No," she said, "I'm sorry because…because until recently, I thought as they think. It was easy for me to think that way because it was an excuse for me to continue to be ashamed of my class and to not be able to do anything about it."

Her eyes were wide and young. There was so much youth all around him, and she, one of the youngest. He felt aged when he looked into the eyes of the young, but now, strangely, he felt an unaccustomed smile play at the corners of his mouth. "You did well," he said.

"Thanks," she blushed, "They made me angry."

"Yes."

They walked on in silence, until Fathom finally asked, "Why didn't you tell them she was murdered?"

He shrugged. "It would have made no difference. Eventually, Godspeed would have been executed."

"But to be strangled…that _does_ make a difference."

Amused suddenly, Himmel stopped. "But quite frankly," he mimicked, "you couldn't care less."

She heard her own words coming from Himmel's lips and smiled dolefully. "Maybe I do…maybe I'm just curious."

"Deadly," he warned.

"What isn't?" she retorted. "The whole world's on fire. Some of us burn more slowly, but we all burn."

"Yes," Himmel agreed.

The position as Full Commander, though he had held it but a little while, had given him power over that fire, he knew. It had given him something he had never realized he'd wanted—had deserved, even—and that was _power_. And not dictatorial power over mutants' souls or any such triviality as that. No. Power over the future, over the destiny of the world, over History. Himmel had lived through history, unlike nearly every mutant he knew. He had been born into it and had survived through it and as Full Commander, he could have affected it, changed it, made it…better, perhaps. Made it so that mutants like Fathom could live past twenty-five; could have a future; could be proud of their abilities, regardless of their class. A future without class...ah, but that could not change the past, could not bring _her_ back…

Oh, no. He must not think of that. That horrible time. No. He must not. Could not. He shook off his own memories. Like Fathom, there had been a time in his life when he had accepted his class as a weakness, something he could do nothing about. He had been resigned to his lack of power. Until recently, he had not fully realized that his lack of power was not a _lack_ at all—but a strength. It forced him to depend upon his brain, his ingenuity, powers that had nothing to do with his mutant abilities. He had defied the class system—if only for a while.

And having defied it, he could not go back.

He _would_ not go back.

"Himmel?" Fathom asked.

He blinked. "The mutants in the metal room. Can you find them again?"

"If they're within a forty mile radius, I can," she said.

"Find them."

She tilted her head. "Is that a Council-approved order…_sir_?" she asked, wryly.

Himmel did not answer, except by smiling slightly. Then he folded his hands behind his back and walked with Fathom out of the tunnels.


	11. Chapter 11: Broken Women

**Chapter 11: Broken Women**

_"A war is brewing..."_

-_Magneto, 2003_

It was late, and after many detours, before Tymah and Spit finally reached the human colony again. A human that had met them when they had first entered the camp was there to meet them again. He marveled, in a frightened, almost disgusted way, at how Spitfire was using his own hand as a flaming torch. Tymah watched as Spit grinned, and there was fire between his teeth and on his tongue. The human looked away, terror in his eyes. Spit laughed and turned back to Tymah.

"That was for you," he said with a fiery smile.

They walked on. Spit extinguished his hand as the light in the camp became adequate for walking. He seemed to know where he was going. They approached a tent made of tarp, skins and other bits of everything, and he spoke to a flap.

"It's me, Spitfire. I'm back," he said. "Can we come in?"

A hand whipped the flap back and Daytripper, looking anxious, exclaimed, "You found her! Tymah—" he reached to touch her, his fingertips grazed her arm and she felt a fire in her hotter that Spit's. She tore her arm out of his reach and heard her own voice growl like an animal's, saying, "Don't you touch me!"

He pulled back in surprise. She did not know whether the sound of her voice, or her words, frightened him more. She had sounded like an animal, and at that moment, she suddenly felt what an advantage it must be to be an Animalis mutant. She had never appreciated, until now, the value of pure rage and primitive desire. Her soul wanted to scratch out his eyes and tear him to bits; her mind knew that that was both physically, and conditionally, impossible.

Daytripper said not another word. He admitted them both into the tent, Spit as silent as himself. Within the torn bits of cloth and tarp, sat Magneto, and the Wolverine. The human female Tymah had seen before was not there, and she was glad of it. It would have been far too much for her to bear at that particular moment.

Daytripper sat near the Wolverine; Tymah and Spit stood at a distance from all of them. Magneto got up, suddenly, and walked towards them. "We're finished, here, I think, Logan?"

"For now," the other man said.

"Will you two walk with me, then?" Magneto asked them. "This is Logan's tent. And Daytripper seems to have a home here already. You may stay in my tent."

Spit and Tymah followed him wordlessly and walked with him towards his tent. Tymah bit her lip in the cold, biting silence and said suddenly, "I'm sorry. I let my emotions get the better of me. I should not have left you, sir." She exhaled with difficulty and waited for his response.

He seemed to be smiling, though, but with his back to her, she could not tell. "I do not need your protection, my dear." It was not a reproach, but an assurance.

It stung all the same. "I know that," she said, "but I still should have…I mean…I shouldn't…I mean…it won't happen again," she finished weakly.

"Of that, I have no doubt." He turned and approached a smallish tent, half the size of the Wolverine's, and entered it. There was a single bed in that tent, but he handed them blankets and she and Spit made a bed of their own, neither of them thinking to ask the other if it would be alright to share. The two of them had a sudden, unspoken understanding: they were alone in the wilderness, quite alone, but they were together, at least, and together they would stay. Sharing a bed would have seemed strange a day ago, but it did not seem so now.

Magneto sat on his bed when they were through and said, "You're right, about not letting your emotions get the better of you. You should learn to control them, but do not do it on my account, but on your own. They could kill you, if you let them."

Tymah wrapped her quilt around her shoulders and nodded.

"Emotions are devilish things," Magneto continued. "They creep upon you when you least expect them: guilt, fear," he looked pointedly at Tymah, "hate. They are useful, no doubt, but only under the…proper supervision."

"It…it…must be terrible for you, sir," Tymah said quietly, "I hadn't really thought about…about how you must feel. You must feel so alone."

Magneto shifted on the bed. "I won't deny that," he answered quietly. Then he smiled, a grim, but placid smile. "But…I am not alone now. We have been ignoring your companion, Tymah," he said suddenly, gesturing towards Spit, "you must be terribly confused, speaking of emotions."

Spit frowned in perplexity. "I…yeah, I am, definitely. But…but, you know. I can get along." He did not seem to know what he was saying and Magneto seemed, in turn, to be amused by that.

"Take comfort. You cannot be nearly as confused as I am."

Spit laughed. "I'd believe that." His smiled faded in thought. "I mean…they told me all about it. About you being…you know frozen and shit. But…I mean, who froze you? Why'd they do it? It's all just…it's weird."

Tymah recalled how all the mutants had reacted when they had first seen Magneto, conscious and alive. How they had knelt and called him father and had wept with fear and awe. It amused, as well as horrified her, how very irreverent Spitfire was behaving now, and how candid he was, despite his confusion. His belief was whole; he knew he was speaking to the one and only Magneto, the legend of old, the "father of mutants." He knew all this and could still speak to him as if he were any mutant on the street.

"I've been discussing that with Logan. We have no answers. But there seems to be certain inconsistencies in your history, my death among them, that do not fit with reality. There have also been two incidents in this camp that seem to correlate with my appearance here, but that we cannot explain."

"What incidents?" Spit asked.

"Two deaths. A little girl and a man. The deaths were unrelated, in that they did not occur in the same place, but the circumstances were identical. Both victims bled from the inside out, as if, it seemed to me, something were inside, trying to get out. The man spoke as if he were possessed, but neither of them lived long enough to tell us exactly what was happening to them."

_Tymah?_

"Yes?" Tymah answered. Both Magneto and Spit looked at her. They seemed confused. She frowned. "Did one of you…I heard my name…"

Spit smiled gently and shook his head. "You must have dozed off."

"I think we should all sleep now," Magneto said.

Had she dozed off? She had not. She remembered everything that Spit and Magneto had been talking about. Someone _had_ said her name… but no one had said it. How could that be? Yes, she must have dozed off.

"Goodnight, sir," she said to Magneto. "Thank you for sharing your tent with us."

"It's nothing, my dear. Perhaps we could put an addition onto it for the two of you. Maybe install a shower and a hot tub."

Spit laughed again. "Good night Magneto," he said. "I mean…Eric, sorry. Good night, Eric."

"Good night…Spit. May I call you Spit?"

"Sure, Eric. Everyone does."

"Than I shall. Good night." Magneto reached and turned down the oil lamp beside him.

* * *

The body was cold, wet and bloated. The once beautiful visage was marred by dried blood, muddy filth and the general ugliness of death. The blond hair was streaked with mud, scum and debris from the water. The river lapped up against the lifeless legs, uncaring, undaunted, unaffected by what it touched again and again and again.

Himmel stared, his hands resolutely folded behind his back. At his feet rested the vial that had once held the Cure serum, which he had injected into the class three metal worker that now knelt behind him, defeated and human. Fathom stood near the woman, who was bound at the hands and feet. Sky's lifeless eyes, wide open and gray, looked up at nothing, were concerned with nothing. "You came back for the body?"

The woman looked up at him as he turned from Sky's body to face her. Her eyes were red and puffy and her body was limp and exhausted. The events of the night, the next day and being Cured seemed to have sent her into a state of shock. Without blinking or struggling, she answered, "She's my sister."

"I didn't know Sky had a sister," Fathom said.

"Didn't," Himmel answered. "You are not her sister."

In a monotone voice, the woman explained, "We were...raised as sisters," she paused, then, "I'm all alone now."

"Name?" Himmel asked.

"My name is Magneta. I am all alone now," she looked away and saw the body, as if for the first time, and cried, "Oh...oh...oh...she left me all alone!" Magneta's bound hands flew to her face and she began to cry hysterically and to rock back and forth. She moaned without ceasing, "Oh! Oh! Oh!" Gasping, heaving, hyperventilating, she shook and cried.

Himmel was unaffected. He turned back to the body, Magneta crying all the while. Fathom had sensed this woman almost as soon as they had left the tunnels. She had been alone, without any protection. They had come upon and defeated her without a fight. It was only now that he understood why it had been so easy. This mutant, Magneta, had run out of things to fight for.

He crouched on his haunches, leaning over the body, inspecting it with his eyes. All he saw was a puzzle. Sky had no visible injuries. No puncture wounds, no burns—but that did not necessarily mean anything. There were many ways to kill someone. Blood had dried under her nose, in the corners of her eyes and in her ears, which suggested some kind of hemorrhage or other internal injury.

"Fathom...how did she die?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know. That night, I sensed a tremendous amount of power coming from this area. When I concentrated, I sensed Sky and there were other mutants there, but no one above a class three. The only one I was sure of was this metal worker," she gestured toward Magneta, who was still crying.

"What did you feel?"

She thought about it. "It was like...like energy being pulled all together in one big ball...like a vacuum, all the energy going to one place. And then, it was gone."

"Sky could not have had such power."

"There was no one else there who was using their powers at full strength."

"Even at full strength, Sky could not have been as you describe." Himmel knew he was right. "Something else...someone else...was here."

"But...I didn't sense anyone else..."

"You did," he argued.

Fathom cocked her head, a confused expression contorting her face.

"The power," Himmel said. "Another mutant."

She shook her head. "But...it was coming from Sky...I'm sure it was."

"Coming from her, but not her," he said. He watched her think. It was pleasant to see the thoughts and theories flick over her features like lights and shadows. At last, she ventured a theory.

"Like...a...a telepath? Someone here but...not here? Maybe...killing her from the inside out? Or using her and accidentally killing her?"

"Perhaps," he said, glad, and strangely proud that Fathom had reached the same conclusion he had.

Then, a look of fear passed over her. "But...only a class five could do that."

Himmel looked at her closely and nodded. "Yes."

"But that's...that's impossible. That's impossible. No class five mutants are allowed to live. If they're Sensed, they're killed."

Himmel shrugged stiffly. "And are we aware of every mutant born in the world?"

Fathom's eyes widened. "No, of course not. But any mutant knows it's for their own good to kill class fives, even as children. Their powers will inevitably control them, instead of the other way around. Like a serial killer, or somebody who's crazy—it's not their fault, but...still..." she trailed off. "But I...I guess..."

"Possible," Himmel finished with finality. The older man looked away from Fathom and knelt in the sand across from Magneta. The wind whipped through her messy hair and river spray coated her face, along with her ever falling tears. Before him was a woman broken. Good.

"Tell me about the metal room," he began.

* * *

"Tymah? Tymah! God! Can't I talk to you?!"

Daytripper caught up with her and then jumped in front of her, blocking her path. She ignored him, and moved to circumvent him. He would not let her. If only she had her powers!

"Get out of my way!" she cried.

"No! Let me talk to you!"

Three days had gone slowly by in this camp. Tymah had spent most of them with Spit in Magneto's tent, or if not there, the Wolverine's tent. She avoided the humans as much as possible and when she had to come in contact with them, she did not speak to them. It was with more effort, but no less spite, that she had been doing the same to Daytripper.

She gave up trying to get around him and looked past him. "Get out of my way," she insisted, in a cold voice.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Janet," he began. She stopped him.

"I don't want to hear about your human," she spat. Just the name "Janet" had made her burn with envy and hate.

He looked stunned. "She's not my...my _human_. She's my wife! Well, I mean, more or less..." he finished, stupidly.

Tymah's eyes flashed. "Your _wife_?" she repeated quietly. "You took a human as a wife?" It had been bad enough to think of the human female as Daytripper's lover, but to now know that she was bound to him, and he to her, was unthinkable. "You are _married_...to a human?" Her whole body tensed and began to shake with disgust. She had to get away from him!

"It's not official or anything. No ceremony, but—yeah, she's my wife. And she's a human."

Tymah looked at him as if he had just told her _he_ was a human. He may as well have. She back away, slowly at first, and then with more urgency. "You..." she breathed, "you...are disgusting!"

Tymah turned her back on him and walked briskly to her tent. He did not call after her or try to follow. Once she reached the tent, she flung herself on her and Spitfire's makeshift bed and cried until she fell asleep.

* * *

Magneto stepped into his tent, carrying three bottles of water for himself and his fellow occupants. He placed them quietly on the ground when he noticed Tymah asleep in her bed.

Her strawberry red hair was spread over the blankets and across her face. She was frowning slightly in her sleep and Magneto thought he could see tear stains on her cheeks. He was debating whether to wake her, when her eyes suddenly opened wide, in surprise.

Magneto looked away. He hadn't meant to be staring.

"I see you," Tymah said, in a raspy voice.

He turned his face back to her. "I'm sorry if I woke you," he said.

"_I see you_!" she repeated excitedly.

Her face was full of sudden joy and her eyes remained wide, but they seemed distant, eerie. "Tymah?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

Tymah rose. She extended her hands, then looked down at them, as if surprised to see them move. "I can touch you..." she exclaimed and did so. She grabbed his shoulders with a vice grip before he had a chance to pull away. Close up, he saw how black her eyes were, fully black. "Tymah!" he cried. "Tymah!"

"Do you...remember me?" she asked, the same raspy voice. "Do you?" She shook him, as if to forcibly jog his memory.

Magneto stared into those black, abyssal eyes and was afraid. "Who are you?"

"I can't stay," said the voice, that he now knew was not Tymah's, "but there is room here! She will be able to hold me!"

A slow trickle of blood slid out of Tymah's nose. Tymah's right hand released Magneto's shoulder and touched the blood. "She won't die," said the raspy voice. And Tymah collapsed at his feet.

* * *

"This is the time!" Centaur was shouting. "This is the perfect time! Fellswoop, the stalemate is at an end! Godspeed is dead!"

Satyr nodded. "Centaur is right. If we act now, we could cripple the Elementals. Set them back years. We know where their base is, we know where their Council meets. We could wipe out the Council, Fellswoop! Imagine the repercussions!"

He _was_ imagining it. It would be, as Satyr had so rightly said, crippling. And yet...and yet...

"I cannot think why you've waited _this_ long, Fellswoop!" Centaur cried.

Why _had_ he waited this long? He had the Elementals exactly where he had always wanted them—at his mercy. Would he, then, show mercy? Could he afford to? Somehow it felt wrong, implicitly wrong, to take what Godspeed had told him and use it against the people she had served. It was entirely counter to the plan they had created together. The plan for peace. The failed plan.

The plan that his Table, Creature aside, knew nothing about.

He had argued with Godspeed that to revive Magneto, who would be categorized as an Elemental by default, would give the Elementals a devastating advantage. It had had been his greatest fear, in following through with the plan. Now, in the end, the opposite had come true. The Animalis now had full advantage over their enemies.

But if it _had_ worked, would we still be enemies? he wondered.

And then there was that irritating matter of whether or not Magneto was, in fact, dead. If he was, the silence was explainable. If he was not, what the devil had happened to him? They had never returned to the bunker. Had Tymah, the Elemental, betrayed them, given him up? Had Daytripper been working for the Elementals? Had they been working together all the time? But Godspeed had trusted Tymah! And the teleporter had seemed trustworthy. The only remaining conclusion was that something had happened to all three of them: captured, Cured, or killed.

Two out of the three choices offered hope of Magneto's being alive.

"We have to find Magneto," Fellswoop said, suddenly decisive, aware that what he was saying would sound like the ramblings of the insane.

Centaur's mouth dropped open. "Magneto? Have you gone mad?!"

The silent Creature smiled widely. "The answer," he assented.

"Have you both gone mad?!" Centaur rose from the Table. Satyr was still seated, looking from Creature, to Fellswoop, to Centaur in a state of perplexity.

Fellswoop smiled for the first time in weeks. "Sit Centaur. I have not gone mad."

"I have always been mad," Creature said, slyly.

Centaur remained standing. "You've lost it, Fellswoop. Lost it."

Fellswoop stood likewise, but his stature was more impressive than Centaur's. His wine-dark wings pressed against the walls. "Sit," he ordered, smiling no longer. "I have something to tell you."


	12. Chapter 12: Memories of Things Forgotten

**Chapter 12: Memories of Things Forgotten**

_"Whatever are you looking for?"_

_-Magneto, 1999_

"Do you believe it?"

Satyr's eyes darted to where Fellswoop and Creature had just exited, then he looked at Centaur. "Believe what?" he almost laughed. "That Magneto came back from the dead? That Godspeed was really on our side? That somehow, if all of that _were_ true, we could secure peace between the mutants?"

Centaur sat back triumphantly. "At least I'm not alone."

The two mutants sat still and silent. Fellswoop had told them such a tale, such an unbelievable, unimaginable tale. What did it mean? One of two things, obviously. Either Godspeed had managed to deceive Fellswoop or Fellswoop had gone mad.

"What if it were true?" Satyr heard himself ask.

Centaur scoffed. "It isn't."

The other mutant's certainty forbad further speculation. "What do we do now?" Satyr asked instead.

"I can speak plainly to you?"

"Please," Satyr assented.

The four-legged mutant leaned in closely. "If Godspeed is dead, if that part of the story is true, then we have a great advantage over our enemies."

"True," Satyr agreed. "But if Fellswoop is lying about this...this Magneto business, how do we know that Godspeed really is dead?"

"To answer your first question, _that_ is what we must do now," Centaur replied. "We must ascertain whether or not she is, in fact, dead. And we must find out if the information Fellswoop gave us regarding the location of the Council is true as well." He, too, shifted his gaze to the door, and then back again, speaking more quietly. "While Fellswoop is on his mad quest, he will not expect us to act. He has lost his taste for war...and for victory."

"You're talking treason you know."

"What treason?" Centaur challenged. "Is it treason to desire victory for our people? No. I'm not talking treason. I'm talking triumph...for us. For Animalis."

Satyr nodded slowly, resolutely. They were in this together now. "For Animalis."

* * *

Magneto caught her before she hit the floor. He instinctively wiped at her blood with his sleeve, saying her name, trying to rouse her. More blood flowed. Her red hair fell over his arm and her redder blood trickled between his fingers.

"Tymah! Tymah!"

He tilted her head back slightly as he lowered her to the bed on the floor. The stream of blood lessened. He swiped at it with the sheet, leaving ghastly smears on her white cheek. Finally, it seemed to stop.

She did not waken.

But unlike the others, no blood issued from her eyes, ears or anywhere else. There were no broken capillaries on her skin and fingertips. Whatever Tymah had suffered, it had been less than the man named Patrick and the little girl named Nina.

And Tymah was still alive.

That could change, Magneto knew. Patrick had lasted through an entire night.

Tymah remained motionless, but was still breathing. He reluctantly left her side to go to the tent entrance. Pulling back the flap, he looked around and, seeing the Wolverine, called out to him. Logan turned when he heard Magneto and came to him.

"What now?" he growled.

"It's Tymah."

"Who?"

Magneto gestured him inside. Logan saw the girl and the bloody sheets. "Is she dead?"

"No. But the same thing happened."

Logan lowered himself to the floor and felt Tymah's pulse and pulled back her eyelids. "She's alright, I think. Just fainted. What happened?"

Magneto shook his head. "I came in. She was asleep. When she woke, she spoke to me, but in a strange voice that wasn't like her own. She asked me if I remembered her. Then she said she couldn't stay but…"

"But what?" the other man asked darkly.

"But that… 'this one can hold me…' something like that."

Logan turned his head sharply back to Tymah as if she had just sparked or caught fire. "What the hell are we talking about here? Mind control?" he scoffed, "Demon possession?"

"Don't be absurd, Logan."

The Wolverine was up like a shot. He had Magneto by the shirt front. "What the hell is going on?!" He held Magneto's gaze for a moment, then released him with a shove.

Magneto regained his balance and smoothed his shirt. "Is it possible that…that one of the mutant factions is using a telepathic mutant to wipe out the rest of the humans? Something like that?"

"They'd need a class five for that."

Magneto did not see the complication. "Well?"

For a long moment, the Wolverine just stared at him. He ran a hand through his wild hair and held his chin for moment, the glimmer of a grim smile lacing his lips. "Well," he began, mocking Magneto, "it's just that there ain't anymore class fives left in the world Eric."

"How can you know that?"

Logan shrugged. "I guess it's possible. But the truth is, class fives get so powerful, they can't be controlled. Can't even control themselves, as we know," he paused, his eyes darkening. "Anyway, they don't allow them to live."

Magneto's stomach clenched. "Who doesn't?"

Logan watched him coldly. "Anyone. Everyone. Elemental. Animalis. It doesn't matter. It's an unspoken rule in the mutant community. Sense a class five, kill it." He shrugged again. "Women usually have their babies Sensed before they're born, to make sure. It's rare, but if it's a class five, it doesn't live to see the light of day."

Logan's words swam in front of Magneto and echoed in his ears. Mutants killing mutants en masse in war had seemed enormous enough to deal with, but this… This was mutantity destroying its own future. This was beyond coping with. But Logan went on.

"I heard of one Elemental, Himmel, he's an upstanding member of the Elemental community. Class three, weather worker. He had a daughter, class five. He kept her hidden for years…for nine years, I think, or ten. A long time. Anyway," he continued to drone on, "she was Sensed out, one way or another, and he had to kill her himself."

"Oh God…"

"Yeah," Wolverine sneered, "it's a brave, new world you've spawned here, Eric."

"I didn't spawn it," Magneto spat in a hoarse whisper.

"But you're the father of mutants, Eric," Wolverine laughed. "These are your children." He stepped up close to him. "You did this. You made this."

Magneto lifted his eyes slowly to meet Logan's. And he finally understood. "You killed Jean, Logan. Not I."

"Son of a bitch!" He swung. Magneto held him back. The claws glistened between the two men like sharp, fierce rain. Magneto saw his own eyes reflected in them.

"You were the first to kill a class five to save the rest of us, Logan!" he said in a loud, calm voice.

"You made her into that monster! You filled her up with hate! That wasn't Jean I killed, it was—" The tears came readily and he struggled against Magneto's invisible grasp. "Goddammit! Let me go!" he cried, "Please!"

Magneto did let him go, more out of surprise that willingness. It was the "please" that made him drop his guard. When Wolverine was free, he hid his face in his declawed hand and wept so fiercely and freely, it frightened Magneto. The tall, muscular mutant dropped to his knees, ignoring the still motionless girl on the floor. "Goddammit!" he shouted again.

Magneto looked at Logan as if seeing him for the first time. It was not enough, he realized suddenly, to blame Magneto for everything. For if one man could really have created the war between mutants, then another man could have stopped it. And that man was kneeling in front of him. If Logan held Magneto responsible for what was happening now, he held himself responsible for everything else. For if Magneto had won, that meant the Wolverine, Charles, and the X-Men had failed. But only Wolverine was left to bear the consequences of that failure. And he had borne it for two generations. It was why he had not chosen a side in the wars. It was why he stayed and defended this human colony. It was why he wept. He was atoning for a thousand sins, his own and others', long dead.

No man really knows how his actions will effect generations to come. No man _should_ know.

But the Wolverine knew.

And, now, so did Magneto.

"You know, it's funny," Logan said suddenly, after what seemed like years, "when I realized I wasn't dreaming, that you were really here, I didn't want to kill you. I thought I did. I thought, maybe, if I killed you, there would be some kind of time-warp and everything would go back to the way it should've been." Still kneeling, Logan rested his hands palm up on his knees. "But in a really weird, fucked up way, I was glad to see you." He looked up at Magneto. "I haven't seen a familiar face in over a decade." He smiled weakly. "There was always a part of me that thought maybe you were right. Just maybe. Humans only ever made my life miserable." He paused, thinking. "But it was Jean. It was Jean that kept me on that side. She asked me, right before I—before she died—she asked me if I would die for them." Logan shook his head. "And I said no, not for them. For her. For Jean. And that's when I knew that I didn't care about any of them. I only cared about her. And then I killed her. And I haven't cared about anything since."

"You care about this colony, Logan. These people."

He looked around the tent. "Something to do, I guess."

Silence ruled for several minutes. Then, "You know, Pyro is still alive," Magneto said.

Logan gave a surprised laugh. "Yeah?" he sniffed. "How is the son of a bitch?"

"Dying of cancer, actually."

Wolverine wiped at his eyes and nose with the back of his forearm. "Well, fuck. I bet that was the last thing he expected."

Magneto nodded silently.

Logan remained on the floor. He lifted his head slowly to look at his one time enemy. "Eric," he said plaintively, "what is going on?"

* * *

The teleporter mutant jumped from one corner of the room to another, blinking in and out sight every few seconds. The strange sulfur-like smell that this constant movement created was becoming unbearable.

"Fuck! Jump! Cut it out!"

Jumpstep, teleporter, class three stopped just as he was about to move again. "Sorry, Blaze," he apologized to the fire mutant, who had a temper to match. Blaze looked hotly at him.

"Sit the fuck down like the rest of have, too!" he growled.

"I'm not sitting," Sees said, turning to face Blaze. "You gonna scream at me, too?"

Blaze regarded the Sensor derisively, but said nothing.

A quieter voice sounded, "Do you sense Magneta, yet?" It was Shiftstir, the telekinetic. "She should have been back by now."

The underground metal room in which the four class three mutants were stationed was, in reality, not very far from the metal room that they had been forced to vacate the day before. Sees looked coolly at Shiftstir, "I can't Sense, remember? And if I leave to go somewhere where I can Sense, _I_ might be Sensed!"

Shiftstir bit her lip and colored. "Sorry…I forgot."

The room that they now occupied was equipped with a proto-type Sensor Shield, the kind that prevented Sensing from both outside the shield, and inside of it. All Shields developed afterwards allowed Sensor mutants and telepaths to use their powers within the Shield, but prevented anyone outside the Shield from looking in.

Sees folded her arms and sighed in frustration. "I feel like I've been Cured."

"Don't exaggerate," Blaze admonished coldly.

"I—I could take you outside the Shield real quick and then bring you right back," Jumpstep suggested, nervously tapping his feet.

"We've discussed this!" Blaze shouted. "No one leaves the Shield. Magneta left and now she's missing. We stay here, together!"

Sees shook her head. "We should never have let her leave. I told her Sky was dead. Why didn't she believe me?"

Shiftstir grimaced. "Maybe you're wrong."

"I'm not wrong!" Sees said defensively. "I know when someone's dead and when someone's alive. I don't need to see it! I feel it! Here!" she tapped the side of her head. "Sky's dead! We have to accept that!"

Jumpstep shifted in his position on the floor and said despairingly, "And we lost Magneto."

Blaze jumped up. "We didn't lose Magneto! Magneto was taken from us! Which means someone betrayed us! Someone told the Animalis and betrayed us!"

"What? Are accusing one of us?" Sees demanded.

"Should I be?" Blaze replied. "I'm the only one here who's an Elemental. The rest of you are just Out—," he stopped suddenly.

"Siders?" Sees finished for him. "We're Outsiders? Is that what you're trying to say?"

Jumpstep stood up. "Hey, man, we're all on the same side here. This is the Brotherhood of Mutants. Not just one kind of mutant, all kinds." The teleporter rarely took the offensive, especially against Blaze, but since Sees was standing closer to the firemutant than he was, it appeared he didn't mind interjecting his opinion this time.

Blaze looked at all three of them, feeling outnumbered and alone. There had been twenty five members of the Brotherhood one week ago. Now there were four. Some had died in the battle, others had simply left and gone their own ways once Magneto's frozen body had been stolen—or destroyed. Each member had been born into the Brotherhood, likely to die a member, without ever seeing alive the man they were sworn to protect. Blaze had never understood what they had been waiting for, or where the order to revive Magneto would come from. What higher authority would command them to do it? He had never understood why two generations of Brotherhood members had allowed Magneto to sit in stasis when to resurrect him would have put an end to the wars.

And, Blaze added silently, keep the Elementals on top. A sentiment he, more often than not, had to keep to himself. Magneto was a metal worker and would surely have sided with the Elementals. Blaze knew the only way the wars could end was for the Elementals to achieve total victory, a Carthaginian victory, if necessary. And where did that leave the Outsiders? Blaze wasn't sure.

"We shouldn't fight," Shiftstir broke into his thoughts. "There's enough fighting. I think we should find Magneto."

Sees sighed frustratedly. "I can't sense Magneta! Goddammit, how many times do I have to tell you that Shift?!"

Shiftstir shook her head. "Not Magnet_a_. Magnet_o_. We should teleport out of Elemental territory. The Sensors they have aren't that good. You have a wider range than they do. We'll port out and then find Magneto. Maybe the Animalis resurrected him."

Jumpstep stood up. "Yeah. Yeah, let's do that!" Jump was always excited when his powers proved useful. He was a needy kind of bastard.

Blaze looked at them and realized that they were waiting for him to decide; that not one of the three would make a decision without his approval; that even if all three of them agreed on Shift's plan, they would not go through with it without his say-so.

And that was the way it should be. The way it was meant to be.

"Alright," he said finally. "It's a good idea Shift." Shiftstir beamed in surprise.

They gathered close together in the center of the room and held hands, Blaze and Sees hands holding onto Jumpstep's. Blaze nodded. "Get us about a hundred miles away from here, Jump. Everybody hold on." In a second, they were all spiraling through black space.

* * *

And somewhere, not very far away from the four Brotherhood members, the only living member of the true Brotherhood of Mutants was dying.

John breathed ragged, tearing, seething breaths.

He had thought, at the end, that he would have had profound words to say, divine insight, but he felt and thought nothing except, _One more breath, just one more breath._

Sentir sat beside him. He envied her steady breathing. She had one hand on his chest, moving in gentle, warm circles. It did not help his breathing in any way, but it felt nice, peaceful. He thought maybe she was crying, but he had neither the will nor the strength to turn his head to see.

Suddenly she stopped. Her fingers were motionless on his chest, the muscles tightening. "Who's there?" she asked.

Her hand left his chest. "Pyro, there's someone in here."

Pyro didn't hear anything, see anything. He turned his head slowly, painfully, and looked a question at her. Sentir was sitting upright, tense, alert. "In this room!" she declared. She left his side and he heard her walk through their small apartment, opening doors and pulling back curtains. When she returned, her face was pale with fear. "It's everywhere!" She touched the walls of the room, reaching out with her power. He didn't want to die now, he couldn't leave Sentir in this frightened state! Pyro struggled to breathe.

_Shh__…_he felt a voice in his ear. He felt himself calming. _Not yet,_ said the voice. _I need you to remember. _

It came all in a rush. He was suddenly young again, and he felt it. Standing on Alcatraz Island. At Magneto's side. Darkness. He was fighting Bobby Drake, and losing. Darkness. He was waking from unconsciousness on the ground, still on the island. Magneto was fleeing. Jean Grey was rising in the air. And he knew. He knew he had to get out of there. That she had lost it. Lost control of her powers. Darkness. He was running across the bridge. Screams! Screams ahead of him, screams behind him. Death. He felt the fear all over again, like it was new.

_Now,_ commanded the voice, as the memories became slow motion images, _come back._

Pyro, the old man dying on the bed, became Pyro of days gone by. Still on the Golden Gate Bridge all those years ago, he stopped within his own memory, and everything around him stopped as well. People froze as if someone had pushed the pause button. He did as the voice said. In silence, he turned, walked the length of the Bridge, back to the Island. Nothing moved around him, all was still. Smoke hung in the air, sparks held still midair. Water rising from around the island remained in one place. The faces around him were frozen in fear.

He passed Storm, her head turned, looking back, mid-shout. Behind her, Kitty with a child dressed in white. And behind Kitty, Bobby and Colossus and Beast. Where was Wolverine?

Pyro walked around and through them, feeling unhurried, but curious. Finally, he was back on the island. Around him, bodies were hanging in the air, some of them half-disintegrated, others just floating powder. In the center of all the motionless chaos, was Jean Grey, gleaming in blood red, and the Wolverine, struggling towards her. Some of his skin was peeled off, most of his clothing had already disintegrated. Jean Grey's eyes, he observed as he drew closer, were black, her face was a strained, blue-green. Veins bulged and capillaries scattered all over her exposed skin. Her hair was a violent, vibrant, inhuman red. Logan's face was taut, in abject pain, one foot placed in front of the other, trying desperately to reach her.

_Now watch,_ said the voice in his ear.

Everything was moving again, the screaming restarted and hell broke free. The waters roared and explosions of sound from all over assaulted his ears.

"Jean!" the Wolverine cried. She challenged him with her black, abyssal eyes and the closer he came, the more skin he lost. Pyro could see his metal skeleton. At last, he reached her.

When they were face to face, barely a kiss away, Jean, the Phoenix, glared at him and rasped, "You would die for them?"

Struggling past unimaginable pain, Logan replied, "No. Not for them, for you. For you."

Then he saw it, there in her eyes. Jean changed. "Save me," she moaned in a human voice, no longer raspy and fierce.

"I love you," Logan said.

And then he stabbed her.

At that moment, Pyro heard a great roar that he, at first, thought was thunder, or falling steel, or the water crashing back into the sea. Jean Grey remained spiked on Logan's claws, her body limp. She looked at Logan one last time and the black in her eyes disappeared; she sighed and smiled. Then she died.

Jean Grey died.

The Phoenix did not.

_Yes_, said the voice. And he recognized it now.

And just as he recognized it, he was ripped from that terrible scene and brought to another place. There were humans with guns and mutants with their powers, charging at each other, spilling blood and severing limbs and taking lives. Pyro watched himself set person after person on fire. Watched himself relish in the pain he was causing, in victory. Magneto floated above them, shielding them in a great, magnetic bubble.

This was it. This was the moment. Pyro knew what came next. A weapon, a human weapon, would break through the magnetic shield and kill Magneto. Pyro would rush to his fallen body. He would cry out, "Magneto is dead!" And then, the human bloodbath would begin.

But it didn't happen.

Magneto disappeared, yes. And the battle did change. There was suddenly a fury of power and violence. Pyro's own eyes were filled with tears. But nothing had happened, except that Magneto had disappeared. Vanished from sight. All around Pyro, the Pyro who was watching his own memories, mutants shouted, "For Magneto! For Magneto!" as if Magneto had died.

But nothing had happened.

It was as if they had merely imagined it had happened. As if it had only happened in their minds.

Something had altered their minds. All of their minds. Something, someone, had changed them all—in a single moment.

The battle disappeared. He was back in his room, in his death bed, his youth gone a second time. "Phoenix?" he whispered.

Sentir was standing over him. Her eyes were overflowing with tears. "I thought—I thought you were—" She sat back at his side and wept freely, clutching his hand to her cheek.

He patted her hand. "It's alright. It's alright. I have to stick around a little longer," he said.

"That presence I sensed…it was so strong, I got distracted," Sentir said apologetically. "But it's gone now."

Pyro squeezed her hand and, looking up at the ceiling, he sighed, "No. It's not."


	13. Chapter 13: Shifting the Shape of Things

**Chapter 13: Shifting the Shape of the Things**

_"I still don't know why I'm here..."_

_-Magneto _

Blaze had started a fire. Sees had exhausted her powers for the time being. Jumpstep was pacing, instead of transporting, back and forth. Shiftstir was still, watching Blaze from the other side of the flame.

He frowned. "What?"

"What happens when we find Magneto?"

He raised an eyebrow. "It was your idea. You tell me."

Sees sat up from her prostrate position on the ground and Jumpstep stood still for a moment. Shift looked curiously at him. "Why would the Animalis take Magneto? He would be an Elemental mutant, wouldn't he?"

Sees spoke quietly. "He was a metal worker. Like Magneta."

Blaze shifted uncomfortably. "What's your point?"

"My point is," Shiftstir said, "what happens when Magneto is resurrected? Does he join the Elementals?"

"When Magneto is resurrected, the wars will end," Blaze replied carefully.

"And how does that happen?"

The fire flickered higher for a moment. "I don't know."

"It's easy to end wars when there are no more enemies to fight."

Sees and Jumpstep turned their heads quickly to Blaze. He looked at all three of them in turn. "What are you thinking? That the Elementals will just wipe everybody out and be the only mutants left and that's how we'll get peace?" The three Outsiders were unmoved; they only stared. Blaze sensed the danger of his situation, not for the first time.

If, even for a single moment, the three of them decided to band together, they could leave him here in this forest without a second thought. There would be nothing he could do about it. He would be lost in this wilderness. Had that been the plan all along?

Blaze noticed the fire was now dwindling, its energy so tied to his own. He flicked his lighter. The flame in his hand was small, the size of a candle's. He made it grow and directed it to the fire. He sighed. "Are you guys gonna leave me here? Just tell me if you are. I need to know."

"We don't want to die. We don't want to be treated like humans," Shiftstir said, "Outsiders have been protecting Magneto as long as Elementals have. And now all that's left of the Brotherhood is three Outsiders and one Elemental. You're the Outsider now, Blaze."

Shift's hard face wavered in the orange heat. He had never known her to be outspoken or firm. Yet, even now, her voice was quiet and soft. There was just an edge to it.

"We're not going to leave you," she said, "I just wanted you know that we could."

He had been mistaken. He had not realized that, out of Elemental Territory, the three Outsiders would no longer need or fear him, that in their own Element, the Outside, they might even take charge of their destinies for a change.

For the first time in his life, Blaze understood his position.

And was afraid.

* * *

Shadowveil stood still as death against the wall. She moved her eyes only, across the room, examining it and each person within. The walls were a bleak, grey stone. And so was she, for all appearances. The table, where the Elemental Council was convening was a clean, almost reflective metal. There were no windows. This room was underground.

The wall was flat. And the wall had eyes. But the eyes, her eyes, were the same color as the walls, the same material. They remained open, unnoticed. Shadowveil's wall-colored eyes, ears and body remained still, watching, listening taking everything in.

The Animalis mutants, Centaur and Satyr had told her where to go, and she had gone. She had not been detected yet, but even if she were, they would be hard pressed to catch her. And if they did catch her, she would be useless to them, not knowing why the Animalis had hired her, or even why it had been Centaur and Satyr, not Fellswoop, who had done the hiring.

But Shadowveil would not be caught. She had made into the Room. And the Room, with its dull walls and shiny table, was protected by a Sensor Shield.

The Council had not brought a Sensor into the Room with them. She had not been sensed. She would not be sensed. Shadowveil was safe.

"There's no sign of Sky," one of the mutants was saying. Hellfire was his name.

"Himmel was telling the truth," Oceanica added ruefully.

"Or," said another, this one called Thorn, "or Himmel, Sky and that Outsider, Phantom, or Fathom or whatever, are working together to start an inter-class war."

"And what evidence," asked Hellfire languorously, "do you have to support that?"

"We should never have given him so much power," was Thorn's ruffled response. "You saw his face when we took it away from him. Do you think he'll be happy following orders again after having command of the entire army?"

"Himmel has done nothing to warrant suspicion," Volt interrupted their argument. "I ask that we drop this line of debate, as it is nothing but malicious conjecture."

There was silence.

"She must be dead," Oceanica murmured. "She must be."

And so it went. Of the many consistencies Shadowveil had noticed in the Council, for the three days she had been hiding in the Room, observing their meetings, the one they stuck to most fervently, was constant indecision. It was an easily deciphered pattern: Enter. Sit. Look at one another. Talk. Repeat. Talk. Repeat. Talk. Exit.

Nothing had been decided and the Council had spent the last three days talking about everything they had already discussed the day before. Shadowveil sometimes wondered it she was not, in fact, reliving the same day over and over again. The only thing that told her she was not going mad was the changing of clothes. The Council members had no difficulty deciding their wardrobes.

That was about all they could decide, except, of course, deciding to meet again the next day.

The other consistency Shadowveil had noticed was that one of the mutants, whose name she thought might be Tremble, or Tremor, rarely spoke, if ever. So when she heard that unfamiliar voice speak up suddenly, Shadowveil listened intently.

"Godspeed was working on something before she died, before she betrayed us."

All the mutants looked at him and listened as intently as she, as if they had all been waiting for him to speak, and when at last he did, they seemed both relieved and frightened.

"I think," the mutant went on, "that it had something to do with that hidden chamber. She was discreet about it. But I did notice her particular attention to Tymah for some time before Godspeed disappeared. Also, one time, I remember, Godspeed had had Tymah bring her a mutant, I do not know who, to her personal chamber. I ran into Tymah in the tunnels, with this mutant in tow. She told me that Godspeed had asked to speak with him. I never saw that mutant again."

"But…you had never seen him before," Thorn interjected.

"Perhaps I had, but did not know him well enough to be aware of him. Once I was aware of him, of course, I would have recognized him in a crowd of mutants I was not acquainted with. And if he was important enough to merit Godspeed's personal attention, should we not all have seen this mutant at some point?"

"What are you saying, Tremor? What do you think all this means?" Volt asked.

The mutant Tremor looked up with fear in his eyes. "Perhaps she was building a weapon."

"A weapon?"

"Yes. A weapon of great power. She joined with the Animalis. They distracted us with the battle in order to smuggle the weapon out. We have all agreed that the battle was just a diversion."

Hellfire shifted in his seat. "If that were the case, why haven't the Animalis used it? Why have they waited?"

"Perhaps it is not yet finished. Perhaps it was necessary to complete the weapon outside of Elemental territory."

No one spoke. Shadowveil tried to breathe as quietly as possible in the total silence. The tension was real and contagious. It quickened her heart beat.

Oceanica curled her fingers together. Her voice was like a blunt knife, sawing into the silence. "Godspeed had spoken of a peace treaty. Do you remember? At the last Council meeting of her life. She spoke of peace. We argued. She was alone in her sentiments."

"Yes. I remember," Hellfire assented.

Oceanica went on as if she hadn't heard him. "It was not long after that that Godspeed disappeared. She must have gone to Fellswoop. Perhaps she had a plan to end to the stalemate. To end the wars."

Shadowveil's breath had become more rapid than was conducive to staying hidden. She tried to calm herself, but her heartbeat thudded in her ears. She was sure they would hear it and discover her.

Thorn leaned away from Oceanica, to whom he was seated next. "How could ending the stalemate end the wars? That's not a sound plan. It makes no sense."

Oceanica looked at him. "A war can only end when someone is victorious. For someone to be victorious, battles must be fought and won. Stalemates do not win battles. They merely delay them."

Bands of blue electricity traveled along Volt's head and jaw line as he looked at each member of the Council in disbelief. "Could Godspeed have been so tired of war that she no longer cared who the victor was, as long it all ended?"

"She was never the same after her daughter died," Tremor said quietly.

The information was sorted through, digested. Each member seemed to test the theory in his own brain, chew on it, taste it, hate it—knowing that it was all too possible, all too real.

"What do we do?"

Oceanica's question was directed at Tremor. Each mutant looked from her to him in turn.

"There is only one thing we can do," Tremor said. "There is one mutant that is connected to all of this and is, to our knowledge, still alive." He shrugged, shaking his head.

"We have to find Tymah."

* * *

"What's wrong with her?" Daytripper asked. He was furious. Tymah had been ill for nearly four days, alive, but comatose, and no one had told him. "Didn't you think I'd want to know?"

"I didn't think she'd want you to know," Spitfire said. "She doesn't exactly like you. And if she can hear you right now, she's probably pissed off."

Magneto ignored the bickering. "Tymah suffered from the same symptoms that killed Patrick and the little girl."

"Nina," Daytripper said automatically. Magneto nodded. "Why…why is she still alive?" he asked cautiously, as if the Fates would hear him, realize their mistake, and take her from the world like the others.

"She's a fighter," Spit said.

"It's more than that," Logan said quietly. "Something else is going on here. No one's been sick since Tymah."

Daytripper looked down at the red haired, gentle, self-assured mutant who seemed, in that state, so much younger than she actually was. He felt his breath catch and his eyes grew hot. A hand slipped into his, then, and grounded him. "Trip?" Janet said.

He turned to her, smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"They told me you'd come in here. Is that her?" she asked.

"Yeah. That's Tymah."

"Such a pretty name." Janet left his side and knelt by Tymah. She rested the back of her hand on Tymah's forehead. "She has a fever."

The men watched Janet as she felt Tymah's glands and checked her pulse, as she studied her presumed enemy with nothing other than interest, even concern. "One of you get me some cold water and a cloth. And more blankets." She turned to Tymah. "We'll sweat it out of you."

"You don't have to do this, Janet," Tripper said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"I know that. Get me the blankets and then you all have to leave. I'll undress her and wrap her up. She'll sweat out the fever…I hope."

They did all that Janet asked and then left the tent, tying the entry flap closed behind them. Magneto walked with the Daytripper in a directionless path. "How long have you known Logan?" he asked.

Daytripper thought about it. "A few years. I was living farther up north. I came upon this group of humans. They were being pursued by a group of Outsiders who had banded together and were terrorizing the local human camps. They'd been running for a week or more. When I met Janet, she was starving and stick thin, with nothing but a light jacket and a pair of pants. No shoes even. I knew of this camp. That, for whatever reason, it was safer than the others. I fell in love with Janet and I wanted to help her. But…I still had this…prejudice. I still hated humans…all humans, except Janet. Then the Outsiders caught up with them finally and there was a fight. I grabbed Janet and teleported her to this camp. And then I went back for the rest of them." He sighed. "They didn't all make it."

Magneto seemed neither disappointed nor impressed by this story. "And you've lived here ever since."

Daytripper nodded. "I teleport food to the camp when I can, other supplies, whatever I can find. I'm useful, I think." They walked on. "There's a lot of fertile land in Animalis territory, good food, fruits, vegetables, wine. That's why I responded to Fellswoop's call for a teleporter. All I wanted was access to a few acres of Animalis land to grow food on, so I could teleport it back here." He smiled. "I didn't ask what the job was, obviously."

Magneto smiled too. "Fellswoop told me that you had the chance to leave. Why didn't you?"

Daytripper stopped walking and faced Magneto. "Are you serious?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "You're Ma—," he stopped short, almost forgetting about the name ban. "You're Eric!" he laughed. "The Eric! I wasn't going to pass that up. Not for anything."

The merriment died quickly, as Daytripper's thoughts returned to Tymah. "I wish I knew what was going on."

Magneto looked at Daytripper, and then straight ahead. "So do I."

* * *

"You want me to go where?"

Velocity took enough steps backward to bump right into the wall.

Fellswoop nodded calmly. "The human colony, yes. The one that's guarded by the half-mutant, Wolverine."

"Look, I'm up to my neck in this. I risked everything just going back to Elemental territory...twice! You remember, I was one of the last people to see Godspeed alive over there. And the descriptions you gave me did not match any of the people in the holding cells that I'm aware of. The people you're looking for are probably dead."

Fellswoop dug his talons into the palms of his hands. "It cannot be as pointless as all that! I will not believe it!"

Creature spoke. "The path is dark. That does not mean it is not there."

"Okay," Velocity said, decorum lost, "_that_ made more sense to me than you telling me to go for a run in a human colony!"

"If you want to keep your land in this territory, you will do as I say," Fellswoop said. "If you do not and you try to return home, everything you have will be destroyed before you can get there and you will have no home."

Velocity paled. "My family."

"Is no concern of mine."

The speed demon went from pale to red in seconds. "I've done everything you've asked of me. Everything! What could you possibly want in a human colony?"

"That is not your business!" Fellswoop's deep voice rumbled under all of their feet.

Creature put a clawed hand on his arm. He spoke quietly, insistently. "Yes, Fellswoop. It is. He, too, is a son."

Fellswoop looked at Velocity as if seeing him for the first time. The man was young, trim, lithe. He was much slighter than Fellswoop or Creature, but that suited his powers. He stared at him. So accustomed was Fellswoop to using Outsider's like hired servants, that he had forgotten, somehow, that they, too, were brother mutants. Had not Magneto's own son been a speed demon?

Fellswoop's anger disappeared in an instant. He rested a taloned hand on the young man's shoulder. He felt it twitch beneath his touch, and could smell the mutant's anger and his fear. But Velocity did not pull away. Fellswoop nodded down at him and said, "I will tell you, all, brother. All."


	14. Chapter 14: The Weight of Words

Chapter 14: The Weight of Words

Janet had wrapped Tymah's body in blankets and was periodically wiping the girl's brow with a damp cloth. She had been sitting alone with her for some time and was startled when her vigil was broken by the fire mutant, Spit. She eyed him cautiously. He regarded her likewise.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Her fever broke a little while ago. I think she'll be alright."

Spit nodded and stood with the tent flap open, half of him inside, half out.

Janet's heart was beating nervously, but she said, "If you want to come in, just come in."

He looked behind him and then at her, made a decision and stepped inside. He sat on the other side of Tymah's sleeping form. "You washed her face."

"Yes. There was blood."

He nodded.

Janet dipped the cloth in the bowl of water, just for the sake creating activity and noise in the awkward silence.

"Why are you-" Spitfire stopped speaking suddenly, as if surprised by the sound of his own voice.

"Why am I what?" Janet asked.

He bit his lip, then said, "Helping her. Why?"

Janet had been wondering this herself. She hadn't forgotten the weeks she'd been hunted by a group of mutants, barefoot and starving and watching her friends and family get picked off, one by one.

But of course, she hadn't forgotten being saved by a mutant either, an Outsider, just like the ones that had been chasing her. She hadn't forgotten falling in love with him.

"Because I love Daytripper," she answered at last. "And she's his friend and I knew I could help, so..." she shrugged, "I helped."

He watched her in silence. She tried to ignore the stare. As if conscious of her discomfort, he looked away. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him snap his fingers and fire sprung from the tips and her breath caught.

"What are you doing?" she cried.

Spit looked up when he heard her frightened voice, an expression in his eyes that suggested bewilderment at her fear. He followed her wide-eyed gaze to his lit fingers and quickly put them out. "Nothing," he said quickly. "I was just...it's a habit."

Janet was nearly in tears, but she hid them from him. His actions had sparked a feeling in her that she'd long buried, but never truly forgotten. "Please don't do it again," she said, trying to steady her voice.

"I'm sorry. I'll go."

Janet didn't protest. She didn't look at him again, but heard him stand and leave, the tent flap swishing in his wake.

* * *

In Tymah's dream, she was sweating, but she was cold. It was so bright, she couldn't see and so hot, she was amazed that her body could feel chilled. The heat surrounded her and yet, she was separate from it. She was alone in the eye of this all-encompassing heat. She thought she understood.

"I need you to understand," said a voice that sounded like tearing paper. The same voice that she'd heard in her mind, first in the forest, then in the tent with Magneto and Spitfire. The voice she'd thought she'd imagined.

The voice grew a face, and then a body. Tymah couldn't see herself, couldn't see her own hands or feet, or her eyelids when she blinked or the end of her nose when she crossed her eyes. She understood that in this world, in the dream world, she, Tymah, was the spirit and the Voice was the physical form.

"It will be different, when this is over," said the voice, who was now a beautiful woman dressed in red and black, with flaming red hair and a face like a queen. Haughty, majestic and sad. Her eyes were solid black and terrifying. The woman seemed to read her thoughts, so Tymah did not have to speak at all. She wondered something, and the wonder was explained by the woman before she had a chance to voice it. Now, she wondered what the woman meant by "when this is over."

And she explained. "You are asleep. Your whole body is asleep. You are not who you are. They changed you...but when you change back, you will be my form because you will be the strongest of them all. When this is over, I will be the spirit and you, the form."

Tymah tried to reach out and touch this woman, but she could not feel her own hands and then she saw that she had no hands. She was not afraid.

"Good," said the woman in her strange, tearing voice. "We will be one." Her body shifted and seemed to wobble. Her face looked sadder still. "I keep...losing myself. And I must fight and fight to find myself again." She opened her hands and raised them and gazed down at them. "These are not my hands anymore," she whispered. "But this was once my form. He killed her. And you know him. He killed her though he loved her." She grew quiet and added faintly, "He killed her..._because_ he loved her." The woman's body became transparent and her face and opaque eyes seemed lost in thought. "I remember everything now." And in an instant, the form was solid again, no longer see-through, in fact, more present than ever before. She was bright like fire and red and black like a rising storm in a sunset. "And I will not forget again."

Tymah had ceased to think questions, because suddenly her mind was filled with the thoughts and knowledge of the woman in her dream. She knew her like she knew herself. She was filled with her memories and knew all.

"Come," the woman said. "It is time to wake up."

* * *

"There were 17 of us," Magneta said quietly. "In the past, there were more."

"Elemental?" Himmel asked.

The woman nodded. "And Outsiders."

"Why?"

Magneta's eyes were distant and threaded with tired red capillaries. Her hair was tangled and damp. Her hands were loose and open on her lap, as if she were expecting someone to hand her something at any moment.

They had taken her from the shore, without any struggle, and brought her to what Fathom assumed was Himmel's home. It was bare and cold, and by that Fathom was not surprised. It was well-stocked, however, and Fathom had eaten as had Himmel. They had tried to make Magneta eat, but short of stuffing food down her throat, they could not convince her.

They had kept her here for four days. She had been so wracked with grief that they'd gotten very little out of her at first, but finally, on the second day, she had taken a little food and some water and had begun to be coherent. Himmel was oddly gentle with her, seemed to know instinctively that to force her to speak would be counterproductive. Fathom's curiosity was overpowering and though she understood Himmel's approach, she wearied of it. Why she even cared in the first place was a continuing mystery to her.

Himmel leaned in close to Magneta and talked in a kind, low voice. "Why were you there, Magneta?"

She either couldn't or wouldn't look at him. "I can't tell you," she whispered dully.

"But it's gone," Himmel said, "the thing in the metal room is gone."

"We...lost it," she said.

"Tell me what it was and we'll find it again. We'll bring it back."

Her face contorted. She wanted to believe him, wanted to be relieved of whatever burden she was bearing. The tears in her eyes fell down her face silently and dripped onto the floor. "It's too late."

Himmel sat back and watched her for a moment. "Here," he said, pushing a steaming mug towards her, "drink this tea."

He got up from the table and left the room.

"He's gone..." Magneta sighed.

At first, Fathom assumed Magneta was talking about Himmel as she said those words. Then, something in her mind shifted, an idea appeared and would not go away. It seemed so stupid...and yet...

"Who's gone Magneta?" Fathom asked quickly. Himmel had told her not to speak to Magneta, that Magneta needed to understand and trust Himmel in order for them to get the information he wanted. Fathom was too abrasive and would get frustrated with Magneta, he'd said, (and that much had proved true), whereas Himmel was more patient.

Magneta looked up bleary-eyed at Fathom.

"Magneta, who's gone?" she repeated. "Was there a person in that room? Were you hiding...a person?" The pieces fell into place one by one. The mysterious mutant she'd sensed with Tymah in the South District. "A metal worker? Were you hiding a class four metal worker?"

"No..." Magneta moaned. "No."

Fathom turned her head to look behind her, afraid Himmel would hear. "Tell me," she pressed. "That's it, isn't it? You were hiding a class four metal worker...but why?"

Magneta bent her head and shook it wildly. "No, no, no..." she continued to groan.

"Fathom."

Fathom's stomach sank like a stone. She faced Himmel, who stood behind her in the kitchen doorway. "They were hiding a person," she said, before he could chastise her, "a class four metal worker. I'm sure of it."

He stared at her for an eternity, then said, "The South District."

Fathom sighed with relief. "Yes."

"Where?" he asked.

"I think I can remember...I sensed...fire there as well, and another Sensor mutant." Fathom surprised herself with these details, but in that moment her brain seemed to be in overdrive, fitting details into place, calling up memories. "I can find it," she said with more confidence than she knew she had.

A hint of a smile played on Himmel's lips. The long scar down his face caught the waning daylight for a moment and looked rather like a thin stream of golden lava running down past his shirt collar. "Tomorrow," he said.

* * *

Blaze waited, along with the rest of the group, as Sees reached out with her powers once again. Throughout each day, for the last four days, Jumpstep would teleport them all from one place to another. Sees would use her power of Sense and try to locate a mutant with class four metal working powers.

"Nothing," she said at last. "Fuck."

"I can't stand this much longer," Shiftstir said.

"We have to keep going," Blaze said, but with less conviction than the last hundred times he'd said those words.

"Blaze," Jumpstep said, heavily, "I need to rest. I can't keep jumping like this. I need a day, at least. I feel like my body is going to explode."

"Alright," Blaze conceded, "but we can't just stay here. Is there a town nearby? Can you make one more jump, just to get us someplace where we can get food?"

Jumpstep stood up shakily, but nodded. "Yeah, okay." He took a deep breath and seemed to be looking at something straight ahead of him that no one else could see. Like most teleporters, Jumpstep had a kind of internal map in his mind, an awareness of exactly where he was on the planet and what was nearby. "Damn," he cursed, "the closest settlement is the fucking human colony."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I can't jump any farther than that. I'm too weak. And there's nothing else around us in any direction."

"Man, can we fuck up, or what?" Shiftstir shook her head.

The group fell silent, looking at each other and then at nothing.

"Well," Sees began, "we look human."

"Sees!" Shiftstir cried with indignity.

"We do, Shift, face it. I mean, we know we're mutants, but they won't know. And there's supposed to be, like, a couple thousand of them up there. Everybody can't know everybody. If we showed up, got some food, and left, would anyone really notice?"

"No way," Shiftstir objected.

"I think we could get away with it," Jumpstep said.

"No fucking way!"

Blaze put his face in his hands, sighed, then looked up at the three Outsiders. "Either we go, or we wait twenty four hours to eat or one of us kills something and I cook it."

"Oh my God, Blaze, you're insane," Shiftstir cried.

"Those are our choices."

"Blaze," Jumpstep put in, "if I just jumped with one other person, I'd have just enough energy to port back here. Two of us could go, get food, and come back."

"Alright, me and you will go then," Blaze decided. "You girls'll be alright for a few hours?"

"No wait," Shiftstir said, "what if something happens to you? What if you can't get back? We don't even know where we are."

"Then we're all going!" Blaze shouted, finally at the end of his rope.

Shiftstir was taken aback and seemed ready for a shouting match, but her hunger got the better of her. "Fine, we'll all go. We shouldn't separate anyway."

* * *

Janet gasped when Tymah's eyes flashed open. They stared at each other. Tymah's eyes were wide and almost fully black. Janet could see her reflection in the blackness and it frightened her. Finally, Tymah spoke.

"You're human."

"Yes."

Tymah sat straight up, looking around her as if she wasn't sure about where she was. She rubbed her eyes. "I can see." Her voice was calm, almost monotone.

There was a water bottle near her, but not near enough to reach out and grab. Tymah extended her hand towards the bottle. Janet thought she was pointing to it, asking for it, so she started to rise to get it for her.

Suddenly the bottle jumped from where it was on the tent floor, straight across and into Tymah's hand. Tymah stared at it and then drank with abandon. When she finished the bottle, she held it out in front of her and let it go, but it remained floating in the air. Tymah cocked her head curiously, and then smiled a cool, thin smile.

Janet started to move away from her.

The bottle fell with a clunk and caused her to jump.

"Where is he?" Tymah asked without looking at her.

"Who?"

She turned her head. Her eyes were so fiercely black. "Magneto. Where is Magneto?"

Janet's stomach plummeted. That word, Magneto, was a curse in her world. It carried with it half a century of persecution and fear, of humanity's near extinction. Her voice came out a whisper. "M-Magneto? What are you talking about?"

Tymah frowned, thought, then stood. "Of course," she said.

"You...you shouldn't move too much. You had such a high fever."

"My fever is over," the mutant girl replied and walked out of the tent. Janet pursued her.

"Please, you've been very ill."

She kept walking.

Janet caught up with her and put a hand carefully on her arm. "I'm sorry about the way you found out about me. I know how you must be feeling."

Tymah faced Janet. Her black eyes were truly terrifying. "I am full of joy," she said. "I know what you're talking about, but she doesn't care anymore. I don't care." Then, she raised her hand and placed it against Janet's face. "Poor human child," she said quietly. "I think...I think I may be sorry for what I have done to you."

Janet let go and stepped away from her. Something was very wrong. Dark clouds knitted together above her and it began to rain. She watched Tymah walk away and disappear behind a sheet of water.

Velocity was moving through the camp as fast as he could. The rain, which had just begun, made it easier to not be seen. He couldn't believe what Fellswoop had told him. It was speeding through his mind like a smaller, faster version of himself. The questions spiraled out of control. Creature had assured him it was true. Fellswoop had never lied before. And what a lie, if it was one! What a fantastic story! It was so bizarre. Could it be anything but true?

Men and women, fire, food, sweatshirts, jeans, rain, rain, tents everywhere, children playing, children running from the rain, cabins, furs, livestock, dogs...ah, no mistaking him. The famous/infamous Wolverine. Tall, black-haired, black-bearded, muscular frame, feral eyes. Velocity slowed, but not enough so as to be seen by a normal person. An older man, rather, an old man by Velocity's standards, was talking with Wolverine under a tent awning. That man was older than the Elemental mutant Himmel, who was the oldest mutant Velocity knew of. But was he a man or a mutant?

Velocity was so focused on determining the man's mutantity, that he didn't see the woman approaching him, moving as fast as himself.

She came out of nowhere and grabbed him. He was stopped dead and fell from his run into the mud. She stood over him, legs on either side of his body. He stared up at her. "I know you," he gasped and tried to move again. She was faster and pinned him down. Then she stood upright and Velocity could feel a weight on his body, as if she were still pressing down on him. He couldn't move.

"You don't know me," the red haired mutant said.

"I do...you're...Tymah...Everybody's looking...for you." Velocity struggled to speak under the invisible weight.

Tymah studied him. "They're all coming here, aren't they?"

Velocity couldn't speak. He was barely able to draw breath.

This exchange took mere seconds, and the old man and Wolverine were running up to them, along with a few dozen humans. Velocity was blacking out. Red and black dots peppered his vision. The old man cried out her name. Wolverine tried to move her. The last thing he saw and heard was Tymah saying, "Don't you recognize me, Magneto?"

* * *

"A weapon?" Centaur asked. "They believe Godspeed was building a weapon?"

Shadowveil nodded, but the gesture, of course, could not be seen. She was speaking to Centaur and Satyr through an intermediary, a telepathic mutant the two Animalis trusted who connected his mind to theirs and enabled them to speak to each other. "Yes," she said, "that is the conclusion they arrived at. And..." Here, she hesitated, "And they believe she was...working with Fellswoop."

There was a long silence. The telepath, who was called Memory, and with whom she was well aquainted, looked curiously at Shadowveil, but said nothing. Satyr's voice was in her head now. "What kind of weapon?"

Startled by their apparent lack of interest in what she'd just said about their leader, she continued uncertainly."They don't know, but they believe the battle that the Animalis orchestrated was just a diversion to steal the last components of the weapon, or the weapon itself. Possibly to finish construction outside of Elemental Territory. Did you...hear what I said about Fellswoop?"

Again, silence reigned. Memory was now staring wide-eyed at Shadowveil, who shook her head quickly. Centaur spoke: "We heard you. Did the Council discuss their next move?"

"Yes. They're searching for a weather mutant called Tymah with whom they believe Godspeed was working. She disappeared after the battle, but they don't believe she's dead. If they find her, they believe she will, with..._encouragement_, lead them to the weapon."

"And Godspeed? You're certain she is dead?"

"Positive. May I ask-" Shadowveil began.

Centaur thanked her abruptly, promised her payment, and told Memory to break the connection. He did and breathed out. "What in Magneto's name is going on?"

Shadowveil bit her lip. "I'm not sure. It could be good or bad for us. I don't know."

"What kind of weapon could they have been building?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is why would Fellswoop and Godspeed be working together? And what does that mean for the rest of us..._Outsiders_?" She said the word with little less than loathing. "More work? Or will they turn the weapon on us, too? We're no better than humans to both sides, unless they need something from us."

Memory leaned back and thought for a moment. "Centaur is going to kill Fellswoop," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"I saw it in his mind."

"Why? What else did you see?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Something I didn't understand." He stopped.

"What was it?"

Memory closed his eyes, trying to see the thoughts he'd glimpsed in Centaur's mind more clearly. He hadn't been able to delve too deep, lest he be detected; he'd had to be careful. "Centaur doesn't...believe Fellswoop. He thinks Fellswoop has lost his mind."

Shadowveil frowned. "Why would he think that? What doesn't he believe?"

Memory was shaking his head. "I..." he stammered. "It doesn't make sense."

"What?" Shadowveil was getting angry now. "Tell me!"

Memory locked eyes with her. "He doesn't believe that Magneto is really alive."

Shadowveil choked on an intake of breath. "Are you insane?"

"That's what I saw...that's what Centaur was thinking."

"That makes no sense. Why would anyone have that thought? Of course Magneto isn't alive! I don't understand what your saying."

"_I _don't understand what I'm saying!" Memory cried. "It's in his mind. I couldn't look further."

Shadowveil's head was reeling. "And he is going to...murder Fellswoop because of this...this...?" She couldn't finish her thought.

"Yes," Memory affirmed. "Yes he is. Soon."

Shadowveil weighed this in her mind. The truth was, she liked Fellswoop. He was a well respected leader and unlike others of his kind, he held nothing against Outsiders for their...other-ness. He was majestic in his way and she'd always been glad to work for him when he'd needed a shape-shifter. She took a deep, slow breath. "I have...just given them all the reason they need to kill him," she said aloud.

"You didn't know. What does it matter?"

What did it matter? Shadowveil had never devoted much thought to the end results of her assignments. It was a war, an ongoing war, and it was more than likely that her actions had led to the deaths of others, or at least to the destruction of their homes and valuables. It was more than likely that she had, however indirectly, hurt people. It had never mattered before. But Fellswoop...he had allowed her and her family to live in Animalis territory unmolested. She benefited from the fruits of Animalis labors, from their land. And she was not the only Outsider who was in that position. If anyone asked her, she would say that she had no allegiances, that the outcome of the war, if it ever ended, meant nothing to her. But that was a lie. It did mean something. And what would it mean to Shadowveil if Fellswoop was no longer there to protect her?

"I should have known," she said quietly. "I should have known something was not right when I was approached by those two idiots instead of Fellswoop himself. I should have lied to them."

Memory touched her arm. "You can't."

"Can't what?" she asked.

"You can't tell Fellswoop. I hear your thoughts. I hear your guilt. If you tell him, and he doesn't survive, they will know it was you and they will come after you and your children. And," he squeezed her arm, "they'll come for me and mine."

"I can't...I can't let them."

"You must! You have to."

He was right. She knew it.

Shadowveil put her face in her hands and, for the first time in her tenuous life, she knew the part she played and mourned her lost ignorance.

* * *

Himmel and Fathom were guided into the apartment by a woman who introduced herself as Sentir. She was the Sensor mutant that Fathom had detected and...down a dark hallway, into a bedroom, and there on the bed, was the aging fire mutant. He was like a skeleton and his powers were barely detectable. It was clear to all present that he was dying.

"Himmel," the fire mutant rasped, "it's been a long time."

"Pyro," Himmel nodded.

"I know...why you're here," Pyro went on. He looked at Fathom. "Sense something, did you?"

"Yes..." she answered nervously. She had never seen someone so old, so frail. She had witnessed a lot of death in her life, but had never seen anyone wasting away like this. "A class four..."

"Metal worker?" he finished.

Fathom nodded.

"Who?" Himmel went straight to the point.

Pyro smiled, like he was about to deliver the punch line of a joke. "You won't believe me if I tell you."


End file.
